#so if anything sounds off that's probably why

[11rosebunny]

Turn ons (BOFURIN + SHISHITOREN)

a/n: this is a repost from my wattpad, take this for now as i struggle for my exams…

Haruka Sakura

•Girls that fight back.

He's not so much of a romantic person so many of his turn ons do not have any correlation to anything that falls deeper into the aspects of romance.

But he does get off to the sight whenever you talk back to someone you refuse to let disrespect you. Even if you fight back with him, as much as he may seem he's annoyed, he's actually intrigued in the way you snap back making him grin at your remarks.

Some say he's sadistic for that (Suo).

Hajime Umemiya

•When you smell good.

He doesn't find it weird to openly go up to you and take a wiff of your scent. It was a complete accident the first time he smelt your aroma. You and him met up outside of school for the first time alone and because of that, he was able to smell your perfume.

He doesn't know why it gets him riled up, it's even come to a point when you two finally started dating, he wouldn't remove his head away from your neck whenever you were laying on his bed with him.

•Eye contact.

He absolutely digs the way whenever you two stare at each other. Something about the way your eyelashes bat at him as he falls into a deep gaze into yours makes him lose all sanity. He may seem like he's doing fine on the outside but on the inside, his itching to shove you to a wall and ask what you're doing to him.

Toma Hiragi

•When you're submissive.

This isn't put in a way to come off as sexual, it's whenever you simply comply to anything he says. It may sound toxic but he enjoys it when you listen to his orders, regardless if it stops you from doing something you really wanted to do, making you put on a jacket because it was too cold, ensuring you'll text him as soon as you get home, or when he tells you to help him with something.

Taiga Tsugeura

•Wearing his clothes

His wardrobe is quite boring to say the least; plain colours, bland shirts, and mostly shorts. But even so, he enjoys it whenever he walks by you and notices you're wearing one of his shirts.

He'll know right away that it's his due to the sheer size of it and the way it drapes on your body. It makes him go all giddy and smiley when he sees you. He has to look away or else you'll notice the blush dusting on his cheeks.

Mitsuki Kiryu

•When you're embarrassed.

There's a difference between being shy and embarrassed. If you so happen to get shy, he knows he shouldn't be finding interest in that because that's when you are genuinely nervous.

However, if you do get embarrassed, stuttering all over the place, blush creeping up on your face, eyes darting everywhere but his, a little alter ego of himself takes over in his head watching you melt into a puddle of ice cream.

He finds it so entertaining at the way you can't look him in the eye. He'll accuse you of going red and instigate your fumbling even further just for the fun of it.

Hayato Suo

•Accidental touches.

He tries to maintain being respectful but as soon as your hand brushes over his, his chest accidentally touching the back of your shoulder blade, the way youre faces get too close if he's helping you clean something off your cheek, it drives him nuts at the way you look at him.

He may seem calm and collected on the outside, but with how he's flickering his eyes to your lips and your eyes, you can tell if he wasn't holding himself back he probably would have smashed his lips onto yours by now.

Jo Togame

•When you make the first move.

He knows he's tacky for this but he can't help but to love the feeling of being chased by someone he likes.

He's all up for the way you two basically bicker with each other when he knows deep down you want him just as much as he does too.

He loves acting like he doesn't care till at the very last moment he'll say something so breathless that you'll be thinking about it for the next few days.

•Putting your hair up.

He also thinks he has a type for sporty girls due to the fact he just purely doesn't know what his exact type of women is.

If you're getting annoyed at the way your hair continues to fly in your face, need to focus, or simply just want to tie it, he loves watching the process of you tying it up for whatever reason.

Tomiyama Choji

•Fun to be with.

He has trouble being romantic and when he does, it's usually the worst thing you've ever experienced.

So if you two date, you have to expect most of your time with him to be more like fun play dates.

He likes the way you're able to make him laugh and want to do more menacing things with you, even if it ends up with one of you being in trouble.

•PDA.

You can argue this one to him but no matter what, he loves it when you publicly show others that your his.

If you hold his hand, take pictures with him in public, hold his arm, he thinks it's one of the best things you could do to show off your significant other.

It gives him the sense that you're possessive over him. As bad as that sounds, he loves it when you're willing to be aggressive to other people that try talking to him.

#wind breaker #windbreaker #windbreakerxreader #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #haruka sakura #haruka sakura x reader #taiga tsugeura #jo togame #mitsuki kiryu #toma hiragi x reader #toma hiragi #hayato suo x reader #hayato suo #taiga tsugeura x reader #mitsuki kiryu x reader #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker manga #tomiyama choji x reader #tomiyama choji #jo togame x reader

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere Batfam x reader who cant feel pain

HEhehehe i just remembered a disease and I just had to write about a reader with it x yandere batfam.

Have you guys heard of CIPA? Its "Congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis" which is basically a genetic condition when a patient cant feel pain to any noxious stimulus and can also not sweat, and yall are probably like "but SNoWWW, that doesnt like a diSEase. More like a superpower!!!" um no. You need to be able to feel pain or else you wont know what part of your body has been injured and get help before its too late. You could have thumbtack plunged in your foot and u wouldnt know unless it got infected and u probably saw ur foot changing color.

And now yall are like "but SNoWw, the anhidrosis part, where u cant sweat, sounds nice! who would to look like a sweaty pig in this age????" NO! Sweating is a necessary physiologic phenomenon because it lets your body cool down as it releases heat. If you dont sweat, you'd overheat and DIE!

Okay now that we've covered the basic info, lets get into it:

So, Batfam finds out about reader when she's just running into danger with little to no care for self preservation, and they dismiss it as you being just another dumb teen wanting to be hero and "change the world". Time passes by and Bruce is impressed by your passion and decides to take you under his wing.

It isnt until months later that Bruce discovers something odd about your behaviour. You were standing in the kitchen with the rest of the batkids, laughing and having a good time when he saw Dick had pulled out a hot pan of cookies from the oven and placed it on the aisle. The pan slipped, and without thinking, you had grabbed the hot pan with your bare hands very calmly and placed it back on the aisle, without so much as a hiss of pain or even a sweat.

And now that he thinks about it, Bruce has never seen you sweat. Not during training, not during summer, not even when after you ran laps around the mansion.

With a quick search on the Internet, he finds out about the disease and of course its Dick who he confides in first about his suspicions. Soon, the rest of the batfam has heard the rumours and now they're all watching you keenly to see if its true.

But Jason is the one who tests out the theory quickly by spilling some hot tea on your hand when you were busy talking to Tim about the importance of sleep. The room goes dead silent as they watch your hand turn red, yet you fail to react. It took you a few seconds to realise that they're all looking at you, and when you follow their gaze, it takes you a few seconds to react.

Or fake a reaction.

You shriek, pulling your reddening hand as you run to the sink and run it under cold water, your mind trying to come up with an excuse. But you know its too late when Bruce's hand comes to clasp your shoulder, pulling you away from the sink as his eyes examine your injured hand and... you.

"Bruce I-"

"I know, Y/n." He gives you assuring nod, carefully bandaging your hand as you sat in his office. "You have CIPA, hm?"

You looked down. Why bother lying? He's Batman, he'll find out anyways.

Bruce lifted your head and smiled gently at you. "Its okay. I'm not disappointed in you. I just... you could've told me." You shook your head. "If I did, you would've treated me differently... like a freak."

He sighed. "You are different, but I would've never treated you like a freak. You're not a freak. If anything, between us, I'm more of a freak than you." He was talking about being a hero, but you giggled at the thought of him referring to being a rich dude who cosplays in spandex.

Bruce cupped your cheek and smiled. "I promise, no one will treat you like a freak. But we will have to take some precautions for your safety."

-

He lied. You've never felt more like a freak than you do now.

Every single day would start off with Dick waking you up and sticking a thermometer in your mouth because he needs to make sure that you're not overheating, even though Bruce has set a thermostat in your room that he controls and he's programmed it to turn your room temperature change by the hour.

Then Dick would start checking you all over for any bruises or injuries, even a scratch, that you may have caused yourself in your sleep. Originally, Damian was the one who had a whole checklist as he examined your body, but that all ended the moment you smacked him when he asked you to lift your shirt. Dick would just have you go and check yourself in the bathroom and trust you when you said you're all good. Also, you're much nicer to Dick than you are to the rest of the brothers (its his puppy dog eyes and that sweet voice that compels you to do as he asks. He's just too nice.)

Dick would then lead you to down for breakfast with the family, where Alfred already has your glucometer out because of course, they must check your blood sugar level every day, lest they find out you're diabetic or something. Only then would you be served your meal, which is a highly nutritous, perfeclty seasoned, balanced dish because they want to make sure you dont have any vitamin deficiencies (because how would they know???? you dont feel pain). But you cant eat just yet. No no, whichever brother is closer, most often Jason, will first taste your food to make sure its not too hot to consume (because you dont realise you've burned the roof of your mouth that one time when Tim ate a slice of pizza that was fresh out of the oven and huppahhuffpuhh the morsel out). Jason would then give you the go to eat and you finally do. You make sure to finish the whole plate (because otherwise Bruce will make note of it and then interrogate you "medically" why you didnt feel like eating all of it?)

After breakfast, while the rest of the batkids get to go to school and work, you dont (because Bruce thinks that your immune system could be weak and he cant risk you catching any diseases from the outside.) No, you get a special trip to the infirmary where Bruce and Alfred do a more thorough medical check up, taking your vitals, JOTTING IT DOWN, while Alfred hooks you up to an IV drip of vitamins. And even though they go to such extents to ensure that you're healthy, they still take you to a skilled doctor once a week for regular check ups. Bruce wanted to keep the doctor in the house to do daily check ups, but you talked him out of it that you dont want to feel like a lab rat who has her blood taken every day. Once a week is fine, Bruce.

Once the medical check up is done, Bruce would then take you with him, either to Wayne enterprises where you sit in his office as he imparts you "business education that no school can teach you." which you believe because... well he has managed to triple the Wayne wealth even after his parents death. If he's working from home, then he'll let you accompany him in his home office where you can either read a book he chose for you (because Bruce prefers to homseschool you himself) or do a puzzle/case he created specifically for you. If he's working in the batcave, then he'll let you tag along but you can only work here by brainstorming or doing some computer research, but in no way are you allowed to ever go on field and fight. No, not since your last incident.

Just 2 months ago, you were patrolling with Jason (because Bruce refused to let you go alone now. He just wont risk it) and you encountered some bad guys who were a little more well equipped than you two had expected. A fight broke out, and in the process you got hurt badly. Of course, you didnt realise it because you didnt feel any of the punches or the bone fracturing. Jason could only look at you in dread as you smashed your head against the villain's head until the guy passed out, all while your nose bled, you were covered in bruises from top to bottom, AND you had a bone sticking out of your arm.

"Jay? I think I'm hurt?" You asked as blood coated your teeth.

After that, Bruce forbid you from going out on the field altogether because you just dont know when to stop. If it werent for bones sticking out or blood dripping down your face, you wouldnt know that you've been injured.

Anyways, at lunch, almost everyone has returned from work/school and you get yet another balanced meal (temperature tested by another brother). You're now scheduled for some exercises, usually conducted by Damian (under Dick's supervision because otherwise, you'd just be smacking that devil's spawn.) You guys use the gym in the basement, where Damian makes you run on the treadmill for some time, during which he does not take his eyes off you once because he needs to know when he should stop you, especially since you dont sweat or are even huff. If he didnt keep time, you could probably run for a long time and not realise that your legs or lungs are begging you to stop and take a break. As you hop off the machine, he's immediately taking your temperature. He does it after every exercise he makes you do.

After that is done, you spend time with Tim who likes to have you try on little gadgets that should "help you feel pain", but so far, he hasnt had any luck (but he doesn seem to be doing good in disguising trackers in your daily wear things). Oh and Damian loves to join in because he gets to sneak up on you and prick you with needles to help Tim see if your sensory pathways work. They dont, but you dont need your pain receptors to detect Damian coming up behind you as you smack him when he tries to prick you.

Then dinner is served, and then you're ushered straight to bed where Dick, or more often- Bruce has you do a self check like the one Dick does in the morning, but Bruce also makes sure to check your eyes to see if you "accidentally scratched your cornea" or whatever, tucks you in, tells you that he's so proud of you for how youre handling this and that you can come to him anytime, for anything. He kisses your forehead, wishes you goodnight, and leaves.

Half an hour later, Jason sneaks into your room with the goodies- junk food and video games. You two have the strongest bond because Jason is the one who treats you the most normal, and Jason does it partly to piss off Bruce but partly because he cares about your mental health. He knows it cant be good for you to be cooped up in the mansion under supervision like a bird in a gilded cage.

So sometimes, he sneaks you out of the mansion and takes you out on late night rides on his bike. You can even watch him fight villains, but you're sat far away and can never interferre.

Unfortunately for you two, this sneaking out will have to end because Bruce had recently decided to set up some cameras in your room because he wanted to make sure you slept well without any abnormal breathing patterns. Bruce hopes he doesnt have to use restraints on you, because he's not blind. He knows you're uncomfortable with this intricate routine and knowing your impulsive self, you'd probably break your own bones to get out of these restraints. And then he'll be forced to use sedatives and he really doesnt wanna rely on drugs... he likes your company when you're not droopy.

And as Bruce had anticipated, you broke down. You finally tried to leave, and he could see the color draining your face as you realised that there is no leaving.

"Why isnt the door opening?" You asked Bruce, as his four sons slowly surrounded you.

"You dont have to run away, Y/n-" He tried to calm you down but you flinched away, eyes wide as you looked at him like he was going to harm you.

"Bruce, why isnt the fucking door opening?" Your voice trembled, shooting him teary glare before focusing your eyes back on the boys who were closing in on you.

"You're meant to stay here, inside, where its safe." He answered, heart aching at the alarmed stance you took, your fight-or-flight was going to kick in. He took another step towards you, hands raised in surrender. "We can keep you safe-" thats all it took for you to bolt as the boys began chasing you. Realistically, you knew you couldnt escape them but something about their intensely concerned calls for your name had you jumping out of the window.

Glass shattered and sharp shards embedded themselves in your skin and feet, but you didnt react to them. No, your brain wasnt screaming in pain, it was screaming for you to get out!

Adrenaline pumped you to run into the dark woods surrounding the mansion, but you were soon knocked to the ground by Dick, who cushioned your fall by placing you on top of him as his hands wrapped around your form like a cage. "Y/n, calm down and listen-"

You began thrashing in his arms, screaming in agony. "Let ME GO! YOU'RE HURTING ME-!" Dick's arms loosened instinctively and you took that as a chance to elbow him in the throat and run, thanking some deity for letting Dick forget that you cant feel pain.

But your relief is short lived as Damian catches you and pushes you to the ground harshly. "Damian! Be careful! She could break a bone-"

"Bones can heal, Drake." Damian barked back, pulling you up before he pushed you against tree. "Let me go, you maniac-" Damian's hand clamped around your throat, making you shut up. "You're the one who's a maniac. Look at you! You've fucking hurt yourself because if your astounding stupidity!"

You whimpered, clawing at his hand wrapped around your throat. "Dami- p-please let go- you're hurting me!" You cried out, but your eyes went wide as he squeezed your throat and bared his teeth at you. "Not falling for it, dumbass." So... fooling Damian wasnt as easy a feat as it was fooling Dick.

You stopped the act and looked at him dead serious. "Let me go, Damian, or-"

"Or what?"

Or what? Or what? Did he think you were out of options? Out of escape plans?

You dont know why, but that triggered something inside you.

Damian and Tim could only watch as you suddenly slammed the back of your head against the tree. "Y/n-" He gasped in horror as you leaned your head forward before slamming it back against the hard rough surface. This time, Damian's hand that was wrapped around your neck felt your blood around his fingers.

"Its my life and I get to decide how I should live it." You sneered before raising your head again to bash it, but Damian's hand quickly slipped from your neck to the back of your head, cushioning it when you smacked it back, the skin on the back of his hand breaking as it made contact with the bark.

You pushed him away and tried to make a run for it, but Tim grabbed your wrist. You tried to pull away, but he had a death grip on it. "Y/n, stop! You need to listen-"

"Oh is that so? I think I need this." You used your other hand to punch yourself in the face (because Tim would've dodged it if you punched him), making your nose bleed. But you didnt feel any pain, and now you were acting like a super soldier zombie that has no concept of self preservation who is going through fucked up lengths to prove her point.

Your eyes caught the sight of a glass shard poking out of your thigh. "Wanna see something cool?" You pulled out the shard, not paying mind to the blood oozing out. "Y/n, stop-" Tim begged, and you saw Damian froze in the back as you raised the shard.

They didnt know what your next target was- slashing your wrists, slitting your throat, or stabbing your stomach, but fortunately, they didnt have to find out as Jason came up behind you and injected you with a tranquilliser.

Sadly, you never felt the prick or sensed the hero sneaking up behind you.

thoughts? also, what other diseases would u guys like me to write for. i just adore these cool medical abnormalities lol

#yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #yandere damian wayne #yandere damian x reader #yandere tim drake #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere family

[sharksnshakes]

New Perspective

After losing a bet with friend and fellow DSO agent Leon Kennedy, he takes you for a ride on his motorcycle. Unforeseen consequences include windburn, watery eyes, and maybe developing a crush on him. Maybe.

AN; so i'm back with another installation of bestie leon wanting to be more than besties. you can read as a continuation of this one, anyways post-re2 leon is still on the brain and likely will be forever

Wordcount; 1.1k

TW; mentions of a potential motorcycle crash, mildly suggestive

Never again are you making a bet with Leon Kennedy.

"What were the terms again? Five minutes?" He asks, a shit eating grin on his face.

You speak through gritted teeth. "Yeah. Five."

Leon's grin widens.

"Shut up," you say halfheartedly, warily glancing down at the motorcycle you're both perched on.

"Didn't say anything, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes and zip your jacket up.

You're not sure how Leon's bike is supposed to safely carry you at all, let alone through busy downtown streets, without throwing one of you off or blowing up or spinning out of control or something. Suffice to say, you're not a fan of motorcycles--Leon knew that when you'd made the bet, and you'd only agreed because you'd been so certain that you'd win. Why else risk life and limb on the back of his Ducati?

That was the thing about Leon Kennedy and bets, though, because you've come to realize that he's got a way of winning regardless of how the odds are stacked. It's great for field work, but it's also a massive pain in your ass, because (news flash) you lost and now you'll have to endure a five minute ride on his death trap of a motorcycle.

"Let's get it over with," you sigh, looping your arms around his waist. The engine purrs beneath you, sending a shudder through your body.

"Y'know," he muses, and you can hear the grin in his voice, "I bet I could do a wheelie."

You laugh, you hope he doesn't feel the slight tremble in your hands, you hope he can't hear the nervous twinge to your voice. "Absolutely fucking not."

He drives slowly through the parking garage. Most DSO staff have already left for the night, and it's probably better that way, because the last thing the two of you need is for a hotshot supervisor to call you out on your antics. Meaning Hunnigan. Because if Hunnigan saw that neither of you were working on the literal mounds of paperwork gracing your desks, she'd probably hit you with a Jeep.

"Might wanna hold on tighter than that," Leon says offhandedly, revving the engine as you approach the street entrance.

"I'm not your backpack, Kennedy."

He chuckles. "Didn't think you'd know the lingo."

"You know that nobody says 'lingo' anymore, right? This is why Claire says you sound like an old man."

"Well, suit yourself," he shrugs, and suddenly you're rocketing into traffic.

You curse violently, digging your fingers into Leon's sides hard enough to bruise. You swear you feel him laughing, but you can't hear a damn thing over the engine and you're more focused on not falling into oncoming traffic.

"Fuck you, Kennedy," you mumble against his leather jacket, your eyes tightly shut.

The agent banks around a turn and you just barely hold back another string of curses. As his body shifts in the seat, you can feel the muscles in his sides stretch and shift and move beneath your fingers, and, wow, he's built, and now your cheeks are pricking with heat. You try not to think about it.

"You okay back there?" Leon calls, bringing the bike to a slow stop at a red light.

"Haven't decided yet?"

"Well, lucky for you, we're at-" he stops, glancing quickly at his watch. "-The two minute mark. Only three to go."

"Technically," you say, peeling yourself off of his back, "It's already been five, if you factor in the drive from the parking garage. So I say we head back."

He casts a glance over his shoulder at you, a smile playing across his lips. "That wasn't the deal, sweetheart."

"Would you quit with the 'sweetheart'?"

"You'd prefer 'backpack', then?"

"I'd prefer nothing, actually," you tease back, even though a tiny voice in your head riots at the thought. This banter with Leon is nothing new. You go back and forth like this in the office, on jobs, whenever, but perched on the back of Leon's bike has you feeling like you've crossed a line with the teasing somehow, like maybe he's actually flirting with you and maybe you're not actually minding it.

"Yeah, well..." The light changes to green. "Nevermind. Hang on, yeah?"

This time, you're feeling brave enough to divert some of your attention from clinging to Leon like your life depends on it, and instead you glance to the sides and take in the bustling downtown scene around you.

The sun's just barely set, casting a dusky haze over the streets. Pedestrians clog the sidewalk, passing through pools of golden lamp-post light; some duck into stores, some leave their apartments, some walk their dogs. You pass a restaurant with outdoor seating, a bookstore, a bank, and you've seen all of these places before on your daily commute, but the back of Leon's motorcycle is affording you a new perspective.

You turn your head to look at the other side of the street and catch a waft of Leon's cologne in the process. It's faint, but distinctly him. It's enough to bring the tiny voice in the back of your head to center stage, where it drenches the situation in rosy colors and 'what if's and 'sweethearts', grabbing you by the shoulders and practically injecting fantasized scenarios into your head. Everything from grocery shopping to painting your living room to getting in bed--

Oh, fuck, are you being a creep?

"Just another minute!" Leon shouts.

You nod against his back and swallow with a dry mouth. Your cheeks are flushed, you can feel it, and you hope you'll be able to play it off as windburn. The last minute of your ride is spent not unlike the first: with eyes slammed shut, ignoring Leon's heartbeat at your chest and ignoring the way your own heart whispers that there's more to be had here than just a friendship.

When Leon finally parks the bike in the garage and cuts the engine, your chest unclenches. Your five minutes are over and you are never getting on a motorcycle again.

The blond helps you off, looking far too amused.

"So, sweetheart... you liked the ride, yeah?" He raises his brows at you suggestively, but it's so exaggerated that you're positive he's just doing this on purpose.

You still nearly choke on your spit.

All the way back to the office, the two of you go back and forth over whether the Ducati's evil and dangerous and a horrible investment. He's laughing, insisting it isn't necessarily deadly, and you keep laughing incredulously and saying that's not a strong argument. Things feel normal again, and you've effectively written off the tiny voice in the back of your head as a bizarre, anxiety-induced response to your first and last ride on a motorcycle.

But his hand lingers on your shoulder for a little too long when you say you're heading out for the night, and after the rapid-fire scenarios that flashed through your head on that goddamned bike, you're not so sure you got rid of that tiny voice after all.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy #resident evil vendetta #resident evil death island #leon kennedy x you #bestie leon kennedy #hes so silly i love him

[la2yn0va]

Self-aware Honkai Star rail characters opinion on you being a streamer.

Characters: Acheron, Jingliu, Aventurine, Dr. Ratio

————

Acheron

“How… irritating” she said her annoyance overtaking her entire mood and body language. Being forced to be on stage for people SHE didn’t nor about NOR care about.

Why must you make her suffer like this? She loves you, with all her being. But why are you airing her out to the world.. those ‘viewers’ of yours.

And that’s another thing. How do they get to watch you? You shouldn’t make yourself a fool for such unworthy humans. Have they even offered you a thing?

“Ayyy~ thanks for the bits and 20”

….you’d allow them your gaze for a mere 20 credits? (Money) either your benevolence shines brighter, or it’s blinding you.

“Chat what do we think of Acheron? I fuckin’ love this woman, she’s SOOO fuckin’ helpful for grinding and destroying the enemies… white bar health… yeah cause that’s what it’s called…please don’t clip that…”

Acheron could feel herself blushing, so she quickly performs her idle animation, leaning against her sword trying to hide the blush and smile slowly forming on her face.

Chatter—“She’s good, but she keeps taking your attention from us :,(”

Instantly her giddiness is sucked away and locked in a coffin as utter annoyance and disdain grips her with an iron fist “Storm's on the horizon, heading towards you”

“That was perfectly fucking timed… did that sound different to anyone else?” Despite acherons slip up, that hatefulness holds her tighter, refusing to let go.

In short, She loves you-she’s OBSESSED with you. But she WILL kill these ‘viewers’ if they stary your attention away from her one more time.

Jingliu

“What makes THEM so deserving of your gaze?”

Jingliu is similar to Acheron, but tripled. Unlike Acheron, she doesn’t bother to hide her hatred for those viewers.

Chat: Yo (Streamer Name) you should-

Jingliu: Your Ready for death.

She says it like a statement and not a question. She hates these creatures who take your gaze off of her, she hates how a measly 5 credits is enough to get your attention.

Your benevolence is your best quality, but also the one that’s easily manipulated, which simply makes her despise the fact that you’re TOO kind.

Jingliu hates the fact that your a streamer more then her not being able to ‘cut the stars’ with her sword. Why must you test her loyalty like this?

Is this even a test or a punishment for her crimes? Either way, this is too cruel. Being forced in the sidelines for a bunch of people who don’t offer you anything of value.

Is her crit damage/rate not good enough for you? Are her stellar jades not of the highest quality? Perhaps her blade needs more… BLOODSHED.

Unlike Acheron, jingliu would VERY MUCH commit crimes to gain your attention. Like breaking the fourth wall, taking an enemies or allies turn to attack, KILLING her allies so that your attention would be on her completely.

In short, she’s a much more blunt and unrestrained Acheron.

Aventurine

“Such Troublesome detractors…”

Out of everyone in the game, he’s definitely the most laid back about your occupation. Mostly due to his luck.

Course he’s annoyed that some no-named randoms are taking the attention from his god off of him for seconds, but it’s really nothing.

It’s extremely lucky that the characters haven’t killed him out of jealousy (see what I did there?) This fuckin’ Avgin gets the most attention thanks to his kit and luck.

Y/n: Thanks for the Dono-

Aventurine: Eyes on me~

Y/n: Ooo~ yes sir~

Aventurine has a UNIVERSAL shit-eating grin while others are glaring death incarcerated soul-sucking daggers into him.

Aventurine would probably join in on the thanks if a viewer sends you money/bits/cheers n’ shit.

Not much to really say here, he’s just laid back to the whole thing.

Dr. Veritas Ratio

“Stop this nonsense. Immediately”

Dr. Raito fuckin growls anytime everytime you boot up the game, cause he knows 99.9% of the time your going to be joined by those brainless viewers.

He’s completely baffled as to why a being such as yourself would degraded yourself to such… idiocy.

There’s only two possible reasons as to why you’d commit such acts. 1. Your benevolence blinds your logical reasoning, 2. You… enjoy it.

Dr. Ratio’s opinion on the viewers is that their brainless insects, he doesn’t even care enough to be annoyed by them, they’re just THAT low level of importance to him.

Y/n: Hey “Streamer Name” who’s your favorite character?

Dr. Ratio: Do you have answers?

Y/n: I- that was perfectly timed.. DO infact have answers. It’s (anyone that isn’t him)

Dr. Ratio: Fail… Get Out!

(If it is him)

Dr. Ratio: Perfect… Twenty Points.

————

What we thinking about this one chat?

#male reader #honkai star rail #self aware hsr #self aware au #romance #streamer reader #acheron #jingliu #aventurine #Acheron x male reader #jingliu x male reader #aventurine x male reader #dr. ratio #dr. ratio x male reader #sahsrau #self aware honkai star rail #unhealthy obsession #yandere characters #yandere x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #self aware ​​honkai star rail x male reader #sahsr x male reader #sahsrau x male reader

[yuitoru]

CANT HELP FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU.

๑ summary: you first met satoru gojo as a young child, hiding behind your older brother's leg, during a clan meet. nearly a decade later, you meet him again as first year students of jujutsu high school. but neither of you knew that you would part ways again before you even graduated together..

๑ feat. satoru gojo ( x fem! reader )

๑ cw: angst, no comfort, short lived fluff, probably swearing, you have an older brother called azuki and are part of a sorcerer clan from kyoto, rushed cause i wanted it gone

the last thing that you could hear was the sound of maniacal laughter and approaching footsteps of the semi special grade curse you fought so hard to beat, but it had overpowered you in the end. your body — plagued with fatigue and the burning sensation of pain — had already started to give up on itself; your blood had stopped clotting; your head was pounding against your skull; your blood-stained hands were freezing cold ... you were dying, and there was no way to stop it. shutting your tired eyes, your brain kickstarted the phenomenon known as having 'your life flash before your eyes', as memories from your past that you thought were long buried away began to resurface...

1995.

"and this is satoru gojo, hes your age as well, yknow?"

the sound of your brother's voice is all you can really remember from then. you had your face buried into his leg, slightly wetting the material of his trousers with your tears — you were a shy kid, and meeting others your age wasnt something that you really enjoyed doing. however, just because you were hiding yourself away from sight didnt mean that you werent able to hear, but satoru clearly hadnt thought about that, as he complained to your older brother.

"hey, mister azuki, why isnt she looking? is she shy? i wanna see!"

satoru whined, a pout forming on his face as he looked up at your brother. his gaze quickly averted, landing back onto you again — you could practically feel his stare. those bright blue eyes; it felt like he was looking through your very soul. before azuki could even respond to the child's interrogation, a woman dressed in a beautiful kimono and adorned in lavish accessories approached the three of you, before resting a hand atop satoru's fluffy locks. she smiled down at you, her voice gentle as she spoke to your brother.

"im so sorry about satoru — hes an awfully curious child. im his mother, its so nice to meet you. i hear that your clan originates from kyoto, is that correct?"

satoru's mother had a pleasant aura to her, much unlike her son, who made even fully grown men uncomfortable in his presence. slowly, you lifted your face from azuki's leg to look up at the kind woman, resultantly allowing for satoru to see your face. your eyes were slightly puffy from your tears and your cheeks were covered in dried tear stains, but satoru thought you were pretty — really pretty.

the rest of the evening felt like a breeze; there was a massive dinner, lengthy conversations between clan leaders.. and lots and lots of men. that was something that you could clearly remember about that day — there were men everywhere. you could count the number of women present just on your hands, including yourself.

you were sat between your father and brother at the massive table, as you pushed the food around your plate with your chopsticks. it wasnt like you werent hungry — if anything, you were starving. but the food all looked so prim and proper, and made your stomach twist and turn. everything about this place made you want to cry and just go home. noticing your antsy behaviour, your father looked down at you before reaching into his haori and handing you a handful of konpeito — your favourite. your father always knew how you were feeling, even without you saying a word. he smiled softly at how quickly you tore the wrapper off and began nibbling on the sweet, pressing a kiss to the top of your hair before going back to his conversation with another clan elder.

you didnt notice satoru gojo's eyes locked onto you, watching silently as you ate the konpeito — a memory that he would engrave into his memory.

2005.

you meet satoru gojo again on your first day at jujutsu high, a whole ten years later. the induction day to the school had to be one of the most confusing and awkward days of your life. masamichi yaga, your teacher, was stood at the front of you and your classmates — behind him on the chalkboard were two pairs of names. they were the pairs of the training exercise that would shortly take place outside as part of getting to know your classmates.

satoru's eyes quickly locked onto where your name was written on the board, before moving to the name next to it. 'suguru geto'. a scowl formed on his face, his lips upturning into a pout — he wanted to be paired with you, and didnt want for the guy with the weird bangs to get to talk to you before he did.

you spent the rest of the day laughing and sparring with geto — already having made good friends with the black haired boy. all the while, you were completely oblivious to the jealous glares that were sent your way by a certain snowy haired. it wasnt until shoko approached you and had asked in a curious manner if you had a relationship with the gojo heir — to which you quickly dismissed and explained your relation to the boy. this only brought more frustration to satoru, who had been (eavesdropping) stood outside the classroom where you and shoko were.

you and satoru began to talk again a couple of weeks into the school year, and soon enough, it began to feel like you were both young children again — skipping class together, messing around during training, having movie nights in your dorm room… he quickly became your best friend.

so when you were sent on your first solo mission, satoru naturally felt anxious about being separated from you; to which you had to spend all afternoon convincing him that you would be okay being by yourself. the morning that you left, satoru didnt even show up to class — opting to stay in his dorm room, nuzzled up underneath the warm duvet. it was clear that he was sulking, and acting like an overgrown toddler. he knew that you were strong — strong enough to handle yourself, but he couldnt help but feel nervous. what if something happened? hed never forgive himself for that.

when you returned with barely a scratch on you, satoru instantly tackled you with a warm hug, spinning you around in the air. his happy giggles filled the room, and it felt like a scene straight from one of the romance movies the two of you would binge watch. the feeling of your body against his was enough to make his heart beat faster than it had ever done.

once he had put you back down, satoru's eyes darted all over your body, checking for any bruises or cuts. his voice came out as a small mumble — you wouldnt have been able to hear it if he was any quieter.

"i really missed you.."

his words were honest — regardless that he had never lied to you before. the way he spoke to you; it was like he was in slight disbelief that you were back with him.

satoru gojo was known as the 'strongest', but when he was anywhere near you, he was weak. vulnerable to the power of love.

2006.

the day started the same as any other, nothing out of the ordinary about it. you woke up, brushed your teeth, got dressed, made yourself look presentable, and had breakfast with everyone.

class was the same. yaga droned on about the history of jujutsu, and neither you or your three other classmates paid him any mind. lunch was the same — you ate in a group with the new first years by the field.

everything was normal.

even when yaga informed you that you had been requested for a new mission, everything seemed absolutely ordinary.

even when hugging your friends as a goodbye on the morning of your mission, you felt normal. you had no idea that this would be the last time you would ever see their faces again. feel their touch again.

despite everything feeling 'normal', something had compelled you to hug satoru for just that little bit longer. to stand up on your tiptoes to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. the pink flush of his face was a sight that you were sure to never forget.

getting into the car that would take you to your last destination, you waved and smiled at your friends. there was a dull ache in your heart, but you brushed it off to be nerves. as the car drove off, you leaned back in your seat and closed your eyes — your last nap.

the news reached jujutsu high fast. your driver, who had grown worried after you hadnt re-emerged from the building where the curse was, had contacted the backup sorcerers to go in and search for you. they had returned, one of them holding your cold body in their arms, a cloth covering your form out of respect.

yaga was the one to break the news to your friends — there were tears in everyone's eyes, including your strict teacher. satoru was inconsolable, his whole body was shaking as he sobbed and wept for you. the light of his life. the love of his life. gone. what was the point of being the strongest if he couldnt save you? the only person he had truly loved in his life.

your funeral was peaceful — tranquil, even. it was held at the school, which had served as the initial foundation of your relationships with others. it was inside the forest that surrounded the campus, since it contained both beautiful scenery and was far away enough from most human presence that you wouldnt be disturbed as you were laid to rest.

satoru couldnt watch as your coffin was placed in the ground. he just stared down at the ground the whole time, silent tears falling from his eyes and falling to the dirt beneath his shoes. he wanted to refuse to accept this — that this was actually happening. he didnt want to admit to himself that you were gone, and that you were never coming back. you were dead. and he could only blame himself.

2010.

it had been four years since your death, and two years since satoru had adopted megumi and tsumiki. despite satoru's care for the young children, he had never once spoken about you. partially because the kids had never asked, but also since he wasnt willing to reveal the weaker side of himself.

so when tsumiki accidentally stumbles upon a photo of you and satoru together, she turned to look at the snow-haired man, before asking him in a curious, yet hesitant voice.

"gojo, is this your girlfriend from high school..?"

her question caught his attention, as he turned to look at her. she had his old flip phone in her smaller hands — it was flipped around so that he could see the picture she was talking about. it was his set home screen that he had never changed since setting it. the picture was of you and satoru laying in a field of flowers together, both of you wearing beautiful flower crowns. you were the one taking the photo, a closed-eye smile on your face as you giggled, whilst satoru kept his eyes on you — looking at you with the most lovesick gaze ever.

for such an old phone, the quality of the picture was surprisingly good. it even managed to capture the faint freckles that decorated your face, trailing over the bridge of your nose and dusted all over the apples of your cheeks. anyone could see you and would agree — you were absolutely gorgeous.

".. no, she wasnt my girlfriend. she was my best friend.. the love of my life, really." gojo smiled softly at the girl, his hand reaching down to ruffle her hair, as the other gently took the phone from her hands. she looked up at him with a saddened expression, whispering out to him.

".. 'was'? is she not..." tsumiki didnt need to finish her question, as the heartbroken glint in satoru's eyes spoke for him. she went silent, just softly nodding her head in response to her own question. satoru stood back up to his full height, seemingly in thought for a few moments before speaking up to both tsumiki and megumi — the boy had been silently listening the whole time from where he was sat next to his older sister.

"would you two like to meet her?"

thats how satoru ended up back at your grave, kneeling down in front of the stone slab. tsumiki and megumi stood behind him, hesitant to join satoru in front of your grave. satoru had never been a religious man, but he prayed for you — he prayed that you were happy, that you were comfortable up in the sky. he prayed that you were looking down at him, watching over him.

"i really miss you.."

was the last thing he whispered, before leaning in to press a fleeting kiss to your gravestone, and placing a printed version of his home screen picture to rest with the flowers he had brought you. he finally stood up and gestured for the two children to move forwards to sit by your grave, as he stood nearby. he was thankful for the blindfold over his eyes, covering their redness as he mourned the loss of his love.

© yuitoru™ — dont copy, plagiarise, repost, modify and/or translate my works

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru

[sluttywonwoo]

seokmin coming home pretty early and you don’t hear him n he walks in on you masturbating with a vibrator and it’s right as you’re cumming so he’s just standing in the doorway like 😲 while watching you cum with your legs shaking and moaning his name until you see him <333 he’d probably be all over you after that

“fuck, that was hot.”

you nearly scream— chucking your vibrator at the source of the intruder’s voice as hard as you can. seokmin ducks it easily, barely reacts to the sound of it slamming into the bedroom door behind him. he just smirks at you from the doorway.

“what the fuck, seok?” you cry, holding your hand to your heart as it races beneath your palm. “how long were you standing there?”

“long enough.”

“and you didn’t say anything?!”

he shrugs, crossing the room to join you on the bed. “didn’t want to interrupt.”

“no?”

“no, you seemed to be enjoying yourself plenty without me.”

“you would’ve been better,” you pout.

“really? then why didn’t you wait for me?” he asks as he reaches between your legs. “i could’ve made you feel so good, baby.”

he brushes his thumb over your swollen clit and you hiss, your thighs clamping around his hand instinctively.

“but now you’re so sensitive, aren’t you?”

you nod pitifully but he doesn’t seem moved. “that’s too bad… guess you’ll just have to watch me get myself off now. it’s only fair, right?”

#answered #anon #seventeen smut #svt smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #dokyeom smut #lee seokmin smut

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part four max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"Hey, hey. It's ok." The man who you were unable to recognize tried to comfort you. "You're safe. You're okay." The blurry figure assured, gently pulling your hand that was covering your mouth and the other that was clutched to your chest in his hands.

"See, you're ok." His soft voice assured, his thumbs gently running over your knuckles to show you you were ok. You kept your blurry, tear-filled eyes on your hands, watching him turn your hands palm up and slowly count your fingers. "1, 2, 3," you quietly counted with him till your breaths evened and the ground stopped spinning.

"Do you know where you're staying?" He asked, gently wiping your cheeks and eyes dry. You shook your head no. "You don't know?" He was so gentle with you as if you were made of glass, brushing your hair from your eyes. You shook your head, grabbing his sleeve when he stepped back. You don't know why you did.

"You don't want to be alone?" The man asked further and you nodded hesitantly. You were too busy looking at the concrete floor to see Max's eyes soften and return your hesitant nod. The dutch had no idea what to do but he knew that he couldn't just leave you like this after someone tried to drag you away.

He was glad he found himself at the same club as you the night of the Monaco Grand Prix, celebrating the race. If he wasn't keeping an eye on you here and there, he wouldn't have noticed that the random guy who you'd made friends with was crossing some boundaries.

He'd jumped in and pushed the guy off and pulled you somewhere safe before anything could happen. And now he was carrying your sleeping body as he walked into his apartment building, struggling with the elevator and keys but he'd rather let you sleep.

When you woke up, it took a few seconds for your memories to click back. You'd let a stranger carry you, and you're assuming you're in his home. What confused you the most was the feeling that this person wasn't a stranger. Almost as if it was your Amilian. But that was impossible, Amilian isn't in Monaco. It must've been someone who sounds or talks like him.

Sitting up in the clearly expensive bed, you looked around the room. The blinds were drawn leaving slithers of light fighting to enter though the gap at the bottom. Your headache came crashing as if someone had hit you straight with a mallet. But you couldn't let that stop you, you had bigger issues to deal with.

Where are you? Whose house are you in? Should you greet this unknown person? Or should you just change and run for the front door? If you find the door.

And what are you wearing?! How'd you get into this?

You furrowed your eyes as you looked down at the Red Bull shirt, clearly confused because you for sure had worn a dress and the stiletto sandals you were excited about.

Your mind raced for a few minutes as you looked around the clearly owned-by-a-male room, trying to figure out the next steps. You could've very much been standing in the dark room for 30 minutes if the noise at the door didn't catch your attention.

Cracking the door to the bedroom, you found a cat looking back up at you just as scared and confused by your presence as you were. But this was a cat, that was a definite green flag. With the little courage you had, you stepped outside the room to search or scope or whatever. You had no idea what you were doing. But you had to at least draw a map, no?

A guy was definitely living here alone. His gaming setup had its own space with no traces of femininity. A woman wouldn't be too happy with such a huge gaming setup that would probably take all his attention. Three screens that are literally curved with a mini Red Bull fridge?

Not even you wanted a guy who probably spends all his time on his screens. But it was a cool set up for sure. Setting the cat down you took a closer look at the cockpit-like setup. This guy must've been a huge F1 fan because even had a replica of . . . Max's trophy. Oh.

"Sassy! That's not food! Well it is food— but not for you." You heard who you were dreading yet praying for call as he chased the other cat. Jimmy (you’re assuming), the other cat who was rubbing into your ankles, abandoned you in favour of his father. Who'd froze in his spot like a statue upon seeing you stare back just as awkwardly.

The two of you could've been standing there like statues for hours as far as you know. You were in deep internal shock, trying to process the fact that you were unable to break eye contact with the three time world champion that you take time to watch on your TV every weekend and were standing in his apartment. In his Red Bull shirt that he probably never takes off!

Holy shit! He was the one comforting you last night! He saw you all crying and weak and— you felt so embarrassed! So anxious! You could probably run out if you had the strength to cut eye contact.

Max on the other hand was praying that you didn't notice his heating face. When he asked his sister to help him help you get into something comfortable, he did not expect Victoria to put you in his team shirt that looks way too good on you. He wanted you to keep it on and wear it everyday.

"Did you?" you asked quietly, pointing to the shirt, silently asking if he changed you. The blond shook his head quickly, setting his cat down. 

"M-my sister was here so I asked her. If that's okay. I didn't want you to be uncomfortable." He clarified, scratching the back of his neck. You nodded briefly in thanks. The awkward silence dawned again.

He cut the silence the second time. "I was making breakfast." He cleared his throat, pointing to the kitchen. "I'm trying to make your favourite," He would tell you but Max Verstappen doesn't know your favourite food. He's not Amilian right now. He's the athlete you've been slowly growing fond of. He shouldn't have known you exist. But he does.

"I'm allergic to peanuts." You mumble and Max was so close to answering with "i know", instead he just nodded and told you he didn't possess any in the flat. You followed him to the kitchen seeing the half mess he had caused trying to gather ingredients. 

"Crepes." He muttered, looking through the online recipe. You purse your lips in thought, looking at the eggs, flour and vanilla (?) he was trying to collect.

"Can I?" You pointed to the kitchen and Max nodded, gesturing that it was all yours.

"Please." You took a deep breath looking around before starting to gather and mix while Max fed the two cats. "Wait 2 eggs?" The blond questioned, watching you crack a second. You nodded, with a little smile showing him the batter. "Oh, yeah. That makes sense." He nodded, looking in the bowl with a pause. ". . . Is it obvious that I have no idea what's going on?" You tried to hold in a chuckle at his confused expression.

"Kinda." You shrugged going back to adjusting the batter.

You'd soon enough relaxed around the man, seeing the soft and sunny side he really was all about. You found yourself cracking a smile or a giggle each time he made a little joke or comment, warming up to him.

You ate the crepes standing at the kitchen island with the blueberries he washed for you. You felt warm in this space, petting the cat that lazed on the counter for your head scratches. Never in your life did you imagine standing and eating crepes with Max in his apartment, wearing his shirt and no pants. You never even imagined breathing in the same room as him, but here you were.

Max felt the same way. His heart was beating so fast and he was scared his irises had turned into heart shaped from how much he was admiring and staring at you. You were so beautiful and calm with such an aura he would think you were an angel.

And to him you were. You are an angel. A gift. It might have taken some ice breaking, but you made Max feel human and normal. You made him feel as happy and sunny as when he's Amilian. Only now, he didn't want to go back to being Amilian.

Max didn't mention anything, he wanted things to stay as it was right now, playfully pushing you as you tried to do the dishes and push him away. The tug of war (more like push of war) lasted a few minutes with you winning and sending Max off.

It was 15 minutes later after Max freshened up did he find you playing with Sassy and cuddling with Jimmy, waving the stringed feather so the cat could chase while the other happily sat in your warm stomach. Your giggles and laughter were music to his ears. He felt so giddy just by seeing your smile, the same one he's been imagining for years now lighting up his world brighter than the sun and all the stars in the sky.

He didn't want to interrupt you. He wanted to keep you away from time so he could keep you, and spend time and have fun with you. He didn't want to let you go. He'd feel empty now that he got a taste of you. Max gently sat beside you, scratching Jimmy on your belly. You blushed watching him.

"You know, they've never been so comfortable with other people." He says looking into your eyes. You felt yourself blush deeper, looking between his two sapphire eyes. 

"I'm kind of a cat whisperer." you joke, pulling a smile and giggle from Max. The two of you looked into each other's eyes for a little, enjoying the moment.

"I really like you, Y/n. Maybe we can spend time like this again in the future?"

You were taken aback by the request. The question of how he knew your name long drifted from your brain, leaving a big smile and blush on your face as you nodded. 

credits to the lovely @classiclitfreak as always <3

#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾ #🐈 ﹒wired in? ﹐♫ #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen #max #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #formula racing #mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 fic #mv33 fic #max x reader #max x you #f1 fic #formula one x reader #formula one

[aventvrines]

second best ; sae itoshi x f!reader PART 1

note: got to 10k words and decided to cut it in half<3

wc ; 8.8k | content ; slow burn..? swearing, tension, angst, situationship, kissing, making out, crying, more angst, lots of timeskips, not proofread, reader has a huge crush on sae bc tbh who wouldn't, sae is rich, cringe cliche tropes i'm sorry, english isn't my first language, two parter?, no prns but reader wears a dress, ooc, reader and sae both have rich and absentt

summary ; growing up with sae itoshi isn't quite what you'd expect

Sae Itoshi isn’t exactly sure when he first meets you – there are no formal introductions or anything of that sort. One day, you enter his life, and you never really bother to leave after. He’s kind of the same for you, appearing all of a sudden – your parents’ friends’ kid, a neighbor of yours – and never disappearing afterwards. As unlikely as it sounds, you’re probably one of his oldest friends – his first friend, as a matter of fact.  [Not including Rin, that is. And not including the fact that he doesn’t really see anyone as friends, either.] Coincidentally, you’re also his first kiss.

It’s another one of those things he’s not quite sure about; he doesn’t know how it happened or why, exactly. All he remembers is that he’s twelve, and you’re sulking on the swings next to him at the park, refusing to talk. He doesn’t really care, but you huff so obnoxiously, for so long that he’s forced to take the bait. Only because he feels a little bad for you, though. 

“What’s up?”

You perk up ever so slightly at the sound of his voice. It’s a small movement, one that only he sees, because playing soccer has already significantly honed his senses, and because he’s known you for the past seven years. You’re still upset, though, judging from the stupid pout on your face. The one that annoys him to the core, for some reason, even though he doesn’t even care. 

“The boys in class called me ugly,” you sigh. Sae thinks he’s too mature to worry about little things like these, but you’re still tender, and apparently it matters a lot to you. He’s not the type to lie to comfort people, and he doesn’t lie when he replies to you. It’s a simple statement, one that he doesn’t think too much of.

“You are pretty, though,” he says. He’s confused; why would the others lie to you? You’re not ugly in the slightest.

“What?”

“I said, you are pretty,” he repeats.  

You shake your head. 

“Not pretty like in a friends way, Sae,” you chastise him with a tilt of your head. “Like, in a, uhh–” you cut yourself off, chewing on your bottom lip thoughtfully. “Like, you’d wanna kiss me, that kinda pretty.”

“I’d kiss you.”

This time you’re surprised. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Wouldn’t.”

“Would too.”

“Do it then,” you huff, confident that you’ve won the argument.

“Okay,” Sae replies, flat and emotionless. He slides off his swing, making his way towards yours. You stop swinging yourself, confused, and he grabs the ropes on either side of your swing, forcing its final halfhearted sways to an end. “So? Wanna kiss?”

It seems that you’ve finally realized he’s serious. “Oh…” 

“Well? Don’t waste my time,” he grumbles, but there’s no actual malice behind his words. He thinks you know him well enough to know that, and you do, because then you’re getting off your swing too, and there’s a tense, awkward moment before you lean in, and then–

It’s nothing like you’d imagined; there are no fireworks, and there’s no cheesy romance music in the background either. But the feeling of Sae’s lips on yours are terrifyingly real. But then he pulls back abruptly, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and looks you up and down quizzically. “Happy now?”

You seem unsure of what to say, and he doesn’t push it. Instead, he turns around, ready to leave. “I’ve got soccer practice later,” he announces. “I gotta go.”

Sae doesn’t need to see your face to know how it falls, disappointed. He doesn’t look back as he walks away, because even at this young age, he knows how to pick his battles. And he doesn’t really care about you all that much, but he still doesn’t like it when you’re sad.

“Bye,” you mutter, barely loud enough for him to hear.

 He doesn’t bring up the kiss the next day. Or the day after. Or after that. It’s like it never even happened. And if he were anyone, anyone else, you would’ve worried – even a little bit, because you’ve read those cute tween romance books that your best friend lends you – about how the friendship would work after this; but he’s Sae, and Sae doesn’t have friends. You’ve heard the whole spiel before – how he doesn’t care for friends, how he has Rin if he needs company, how soccer is always, always, always his first priority – and even though he’s basically told you that you aren’t friends, he’s never told you to leave either. So it’s not like he doesn’t like you, right?

But then again, it’s kinda changed everything for you. Because suddenly, Sae is no longer just Sae. It’s as if something in your brain finally clicks, and you realize that Sae is a boy too. It’s as if you’ve always seen him as an extension of your girlfriends, but now it’s different. So, so different. For the first time, you look at him like he’s one of the cute boys in class – because he is. 

And unbeknownst to you, Sae notices. He sees the way you stare at him unabashedly when you think he’s not looking, how your movements suddenly become more calculated around him. Suddenly, you’ve stopped speaking your mind around him, started caring more about your appearance instead. You’re more conscious of your words and actions, and you keep applying and reapplying the strawberry lipgloss that’s always on your person The regular afternoons at the swing set in the park before practice have turned into hanging out maybe once a fortnight; instead of bugging him to hang out, you now shyly wave goodbye at him after school, and he watches you run over to your friends. You all giggle and push each other around, and if he notices the indiscreet glances your friends throw at him, or hears one of you say his name, he makes an effort to steadfastly ignore it.

It’s already kind of pathetic, how obvious you are with your little crush on him. He tries his best to ignore it, even when your entire face burns red when he throws you a ghost of a smile. But sometimes, even he finds it hard to resist teasing you. He deserves it, right? In his mind, he does. If you’re going to pine over him like this, might as well mess with you at least once while you do so.

It’s a week before your thirteenth birthday – he’s already turned thirteen by then – when he looks at you, feigning curiosity. “Y/n?”

You look at him, startled. “Yeah?”

“What happened to that guy you used to like, what was his name again-”

“N-nothing!” you stammer, interrupting him. “I don’t like anyone, I mean him, anymore!”

Sae’s lips quirk up momentarily; he shakes his head and walks away as you blush and babble incoherently, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

You’re actually kinda cute.

Kinda.

He doesn’t know why it feels this good to have you indirectly confirm that you like him.

Thirteen passes by so fast, but it leaves you dealing with so many changes too. 

There are no more afternoons spent at the swing set in the park.

At fourteen, you stop focusing on yourself for long enough to notice that Sae is changing too. He’s suddenly much taller than you, voice beginning to get deeper. He lets his reddish-brown hair grow out so it frames his face – somewhat unevenly, but it’s still pretty. He’s started to spend more time at soccer practice, and it shows. Like, physically. The muscles in his arms and legs have started to become more defined, and the number of girls who are into him have therefore increased drastically. It irks you. And then he actually starts dating, and it pisses you off even more, because 1) since you’ve basically grown up together, he’ll never see you as anything more than a friend, and 2) girls are basically lining up to date him, even when all the relationships he’s been in so far barely last a month, and his personality is ass, and he always prioritizes soccer more. 

He doesn’t deserve it just because he’s pretty.

You don’t really understand why they do it; you’ve been pining for him silently for almost two years, and even though you fantasize him liking you back, and marrying you in the future, you know you probably wouldn’t do anything with him, not right now, not when he’s like this. You hope that if anything happens with him, you’ll be sensible enough to not pursue it. And you even miss just being friends with him – now that he’s busy with soccer, and teaching Rin, and girls, he doesn’t have any time for anything else. Anything else being you, in this case. 

You barely talk to him anymore, and it’s not like he makes any effort either.

You miss him.

Sae doesn’t take all these relationships seriously at all; he’s fifteen, and no one really falls in love at fifteen, right? Besides, it’s not like any of these girls want him for anything other than his looks and money. They’re pretty, sure, and it’s fun sneaking around and having someone cheer for him at his soccer matches is nice, but he doesn’t really care for it in the end.

Freshman prom takes place when you’re almost sixteen. You’re one of those few people who doesn’t have a date; you’ve never dated anyone and quite frankly, you’re contemplating whether you should go at all. Maybe you won’t waste money on a dress and makeup and just stay home instead – it won’t be worth it to go alone and face the awkwardness of not having someone with you. All your friends have dates, so you’ll basically be alone anyways, and you don’t want them to give anything up for you – you know they would. 

You’re thinking of all this while stranded on one of the higher seats on the bleachers; your friend Asa’s boyfriend is at soccer practice, and she’s brought you with her to watch. You’re not very interested in whatever they’re doing down there, but Asa appears to be, since she’s left you up here alone to go down to talk to her boyfriend. You look up momentarily, not expecting to see anything interesting, but then you catch sight of a familiar number on the back of a jersey – number 10. Despite not wanting to give in to his effortless allure, you can’t help but drag your eyes down the vast expanse of his broad back, down to where it tapers off into a surprisingly small waist, and then his toned legs. If he’s like this at sixteen, you can’t even imagine what he’ll look like when he’s older.

And then he turns around. And your eyes meet. He smirks at you, as if he knows you’ve been staring. You tear your eyes away from his mesmerizing teal ones, trying to focus on the math book that’s perched precariously on your lap. A moment later, you glance up again, thinking he’s moved to some other part of the field, but instead he’s approaching the bleachers, specifically in your direction. You panic for a second – maybe he’s just going to talk to someone else down there, you tell yourself, trying to calm down. But then he starts climbing the steps, one by one, until he stops at your level. Please walk past me, please walk past me, please–

He sits down on the seat next to yours. You keep your gaze fixed firmly on the notebook, refusing to acknowledge his existence until he acknowledges yours.

“You got a date?”

“Huh?” your brain doesn’t register the question before your answer flies out of your mouth. “What?”

Sae sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. Even now, sweaty and tired and annoyed, he looks absolutely gorgeous. “Prom, you have a date?”

“Actually I’m thinking of not going at all,” you admit sheepishly.

“Why not?” Sae has the audacity to actually look interested.

“It’ll be awkward,” you reply flatly. “All my friends have dates, but I don’t, so I won’t have anyone to be with, and if I tell them I’m going alone, they’ll just ditch their boyfriends to hang out with me. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Go with me, then.”

“What?”

“Be my date, to prom,” he sighs.

“Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“Don’t you have a date? I thought girls chase you everywhere,” you scoff.

“What, you jealous?” he says, almost as if he’s musing.

“Of course not!” you lie.

“So? Is it a yes, or do I gotta find some other girl to take?”

“I don’t think you have to go looking to find one,” you reply coldly.

He snickers in response, but there’s no mirth behind it. “I’m serious. I want you to go with me.”

You’d hoped to be sensible in situations like these. Spoiler alert: you’d hoped wrong. You are, after all, only fifteen.

“What about your girlfriend, though?” you ask him later. 

“We broke up.” he replies curtly.  Of course they did. 

You ignore the twisted glee that boils in the pits of your stomach.

Your friends are probably more excited than you when you tell them who’s taking you to prom; you try to convince them – and also yourself – that it’s nothing like that, it’s purely platonic. But you still don’t know why he chose you. You’re also not sure why you accepted. If only he wasn’t so damn pretty. 

You’re not deaf – the whispers start as soon as you enter prom attached to the Sae Itoshi’s side, the corsage on your wrist matching the boutonnière on the lapel of his tuxedo. All eyes are on the two of you; the soccer prodigy and his childhood friend. But Sae is surprisingly courteous tonight. He notices your discomfort almost immediately, squeezing your hand reassuringly to calm you down. 

“Ignore them,” he advises you under his breath. He’s nothing like the person you’ve known so far. Is this how he treats his girlfriends? You shrug the thought off, instead forcing yourself to smile up at him. 

“I’m fine,” you murmur.

You’re not.

Sae is an excellent date; he dances with you until you’re tired, refuses to leave your side, and looks after your punch when you go to the bathroom. He seems somewhat tired, but it feels like he’s trying to hide it, so you don’t mention it. But then again, you’ve been wrapped up in your own thoughts again. Because of tonight, the emotional part of your crush on Sae has once again been reawakened – he’s no longer a piece of eye candy you stare at when you’re bored.

And then, just when you decide things can’t get any worse, they do.

“Y/n, Sae, c’mere,” calls Asa. “Let's play spin the bottle!”

You shake your head, about to refuse, but Sae grabs your hand and starts walking towards the small group that’s assembled around a glass bottle that’s half full of some dubious liquid you can’t quite identify. 

“Sure,” he says. “We’ll play.”

Fuck.

The circle consists of you, Sae, Asa, her boyfriend Denji, your other friend Maki, and a bunch of other people you don’t know by name. You’re sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor of the gymnasium, and for some reason, you have a really bad feeling about this. Maki goes first, leaning forward to spin the bottle with a swift flick of her fingers. It slows down near you, moves to Sae – your breath catches in your throat as it inches past – and stops in front of Asa. She leans in, giving Maki a cursory peck on the lips before pulling back. They’re both laughing, and she leans into Denji, immediately murmuring an apology. He shakes his head, grinning. “I don’t mind, babe, I swear! But whose turn is it now?”

Everyone turns to look at you.

Shit.

You swallow nervously, reaching out to the bottle with one shaky hand. You don’t know why you’re this anxious. Taking a deep breath, you spin. It takes longer than you expect. You can hardly breathe – and then Sae bends his head towards yours, whispering, “Calm down, it’ll be fine.”

But it isn’t. Because as soon as the words exit his mouth, the bottle comes to a stop. And because the universe does everything it possibly can to fuck you over, it comes to a stop in front of Sae. You hastily shake your head. “It’s okay, we don’t have to–”

“What?” he interrupts. “You don’t wanna kiss me?”

“It’s not that,” an angry flush spreads across your cheeks, and your hands ball up into tight fists. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Make it ten seconds at least, this time!” Someone cheers, but you’re only looking at Sae. You turn towards him, and just like that, you and Sae share your second kiss together. He’s obviously much more experienced than you, tilting your head up with one hand to get a better angle. His lips are chapped, but still soft. It feels… nice. You almost wish you were dating him. But when you finally relax, almost starting to enjoy it, he pulls back. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

You nod, flustered, still trying to compose yourself. “ Yeah, it was okay.”

“I think I’m cursed,” you complain to Asa and Maki in the girls’ toilets where you’ve taken refuge to touch up your makeup. “He was my first kiss, and my second one too. Next you’ll see him being the third one too!”

Asa giggles. “Ooh, I hope so!”

“Maybe he’s secretly in love with you, you never know,” interjects Maki, but you shake your head sadly. She rolls her eyes, closing the tube of mascara. “Stop acting like a pathetic puppy,” she chides. “It’s okayyyyy.”

You don’t answer, busy swiping the applicator of your lipgloss across your lips. 

“Um, I think I gotta pee, you guys go back without me,” you say. Your voice is too loud, too high-pitched. It’s obvious that you have other reasons for wanting to come out later. There’s an awkward silence, and you’re not quite sure what to expect. Will they refuse and Call you out? Anxiety bubbles up inside you. But Asa and Maki are your best friends, after all. You can see in their eyes that they don’t buy it at all – they pretend to, though, and leave you alone in the restrooms to rot alone with your thoughts.

 When you finally get the guts to exit the toilet, you find yourself standing behind Asa. She’s asking Sae how much longer the two of you will be staying, and hasn’t seemed to notice you behind her yet. Sae does, though, raising one perfect brow ever so slightly. Asa continues talking, unaware of the silent conversation going on between the two of you. Sae tilts his head to one side, as if asking a question; you shake your head vehemently in return, hoping he understands what you’re trying to convey. 

“We’ll get going as soon as y/n comes back,” says Sae. You breathe a sigh of relief; how could you possibly have doubted him? He’s known you since you were what, five years old – longer than anyone else in the room, even Maki and Asa.

“But it’s barely eight,” Asa argues, but he shakes his head.

“Her parents said eight thirty tops,” he shrugs. Sae is an impeccable liar. Before Asa can say anything else, you interrupt them.

“ Sae, we gotta go.”

“Yeah,” he says. “See? Later, Asa.”

“Bye Asa!”

She waves goodbye as the two of you leave the gym. 

The school looks completely different at night, dimly lit with countless locked doors on either side of you, and it doesn’t take long for the two of you to get lost. Sae watches you standing uneasily by a window, face lit up almost ethereally by the moonlight that’s streaming in. You don’t notice him staring as you gaze distractedly out of the window silently. You really are pretty.

He doesn’t realize when he walks over to stand beside you wordlessly. You tear your eyes away from the world outside and turn to him. “You need anything?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

His voice is lower than usual, barely above a whisper, and suddenly the air is thick with tension. He hears you breathe in, sharp and fast, as your gaze flickers from his eyes, to his lips, then back to his eyes again. He can’t blame you, not when he’s doing the same thing. Sae takes a single carefully calculated step forward, and before he can move another muscle, you step forward too, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down to kiss him. He’s startled at your boldness – he hadn’t expected you to initiate anything – but it’s a nice surprise. It takes a moment for him to regain his senses before he kisses you back with equal fervor, large hands coming up to cradle your face. He feels you sigh softly into his mouth, fists tightening around the fabric of his jacket. What had Asa mentioned again– oh. So this is your first real kiss – not one that’s part of a game, not one that’s being used to just prove a point. Your stupid strawberry lipgloss smears across your mouth and his, and it tastes good, and you taste good, and so what if a tiny part of him doesn’t want this to ever end?

But then the two of you separate, and you’re probably the most beautiful girl he’s seen in his entire life. You’re panting slightly from the lack of  oxygen, chest heaving gently. Your lips are parted a little, slick with a mix of lipgloss and saliva, and you’re watching him with widened eyes. He’s not sure what to do now, but suddenly you take a step back, and then another, and another. You shake your head. “This was a mistake, Sae. I’m not gonna become another one of your disposable girlfriends.”

Sae doesn’t know what to say. In fact, he doesn’t even have anything to say at all. No excuses, no defenses. You are probably right after all. Though he may be an expert at starting relationships, he certainly fails to keep them alive – not that he cares to, in the first place. And soccer is always more important anyways. So he stays silent, watching you hurry away into the dark.

He hopes you won’t get lost this time.

School starts a week later, a day after your sixteenth birthday. You’re almost relieved to see that Sae has gone back to ignoring you. [he hasn’t wished you a happy birthday.] You play it off to your friends as him just being busy again, but you know that’s not true. And he already has another girl hanging off his arm again, and although you’re unsurprised, it still hurts after that night, when he’d kissed you like you actually meant something to him. You know you don’t, though. Not in the way other things matter to him – soccer, for example. Or getting girls.

It’s painful to even look at him now; it’s annoying how fast your views of him have changed. It also doesn’t help that he glances towards you every now and then. Whatever, you think. Fuck him. You need to focus on your classwork instead. Or more specifically, the project that’ll make up a significant portion of your grade and act as a replacement for your finals. Unfortunately for you, it’s a partnered project, meaning you won’t be able to work as efficiently – you’re in your element when you’re working alone. Half the class has already been paired up by the time your name is called. You scan the remaining people for Asa or Maki, hoping you get one of them as a partner, but your peace is shattered as your teacher calls out a name that you’ve grown to dislike, no, fear over the past week. “Sae Itoshi!”

Sae’s face is painfully neutral, betraying absolutely no emotion. You don’t know whether he even cares about this – he probably doesn’t – but it’s still an important project, so all you can do is suck it up and work. He walks up to you, face still annoyingly blank. “You have my number, right?”

What happened to hello? How are you? You nod anyways, unsure of what he wants.

“Call me then,” he says flatly. “I’ll do whatever as long as you arrange the time and place.”

What a bitch. You want to slap him.

“Okay.” 

It’s not okay.

Every time you’re even near him, all you can think of is his lips on yours; the feel of his hands on your waist, your face. You don’t want anything to do with him, let alone spend the next two weeks working on this stupid project with him.

That night, you scream at yourself in the mirror. Why can’t you just be normal? These things happen, it’s not a big deal. You spend half an hour pacing around the bathroom, raving to yourself like a madman. It takes another hour before you calm down enough to be able to text him.

You: hey

You: this is y/n btw

Sae: ok

You: you told me to arrange everything 

Sae: yea

You: i’m free tmr after school. At like 3

Sae: i have practice

You: dude skip out on practice once nothing will happen

Sae: no

y/n: ur literally a prodigy..

Sae: and?

y/n: okay yk what?

y/n: you set everything up then idc

Sae: wtf okay

Sae: 3pms okay

Sae: your place or mine

The first time the two of you meet up, time passes slowly but uneventfully. It’s at your house; the two of you have decided to alternate until the project is done. It doesn’t really matter, though, considering how close you live to each other It takes you almost six hours to perfect the outline, and you’re fucking exhausted by the end of the day. Even Sae doesn’t have any energy in him to spit out any witty remarks until he’s leaving. He shoves his things into his backpack messily. Usually, everything that belongs to him is neat and immaculate, so this goes to show just how much the day has worn him out. But it appears to have reduced the tension between you two as well. [Not that you care.] At the door, he turns back to you. “Fuck you for choosing the most complicated topic just for some extra credit,” he grumbles.

You scoff, even though you know he’s not being serious. 

“Fuck you too, Sae Itoshi.” you call.

He raises up one hand to flip you off behind him as he walks off. 

You think you hear him laugh.

The second day of the project is spent at Sae’s place. It’s a Saturday, and he forces you to wake up nice and early so the two of you can start working on the project as fast as possible. 

“The faster we start, the faster we finish,” he says. 

Sae is infinitely more comfortable in his own house, body draped over one of the many sofas in the living room as he types on his laptop. You’re sitting on the floor, on top of a large piece of paper that you’re decorating. This project is such a pain in the ass. The air conditioner is on full blast, but for some reason you’re still feeling kind of feverish. Sae, on the other hand, seems to be living his best life in a tight black t-shirt and light gray sweats that hang annoyingly low on his hips – it’s a simple yet devastatingly distracting outfit, and you can barely focus.

Sooner or later, the two of you find yourselves in the kitchen looking for something to eat. Sae bends down to rifle through the fridge while you seat yourself on one of the high stools around the kitchen counter. Your legs hang in the air, and suddenly you feel very small. But more and more loud noises come from the fridge as Sae curses and throws an empty box behind him; you take this moment to shamelessly ogle his turned back. He straightens up again a moment later, and you rip your eyes away and look down at the counter. Just in time too, because he turns around, slamming the door shut. 

“That little shit Rin finished everything good here,” he grumbles, stretching. You have to force yourself to look away from him and the way his shirt rides up to reveal perfectly sculpted abs. He turns to one of the cabinets instead, pulling out a container instead. Opening it up, he sticks one hand inside, pulling out a chocolate chip cookie. Then he holds it out to you. “Want some?”

You nod in assent.

Sae finishes eating before you, but he doesn’t leave the kitchen as you steadily work through the pile of cookies on your plate. It’s not exactly awkward, but he’s slouched against the marble of the kitchen counter, chin resting on one hand as he watches you eat. His pretty teal gaze follows your every movement, yet his face remains completely passive.

You help him wash up after you finish, even though there’s not a lot to clean. But then, as you turn around to leave the kitchen, Sae moves too, and suddenly you’re standing with your front all but pressed up against his. You move to one side to give him space to pass, but apparently he has the same idea at the exact same time. You move to the other side, and so does he. The double coincidence makes you giggle, and pulls a chuckle from him too. But the atmosphere shifts in a way that’s all too familiar, and the pit in your stomach reopens, and you swallow, looking up at Sae. He stares back at you, nonchalant, and before you can say anything or get yourself out of this situation, he speaks. “I want to kiss you again.”

His voice is controlled, toneless. But his eyes, the ones you’ve known for over nine years right now, betray his true feelings. He’s really not as unbothered as he’s trying to appear; a steady fire of something you can’t identify burns in his eyes.

You want to say no. You know that’s the smarter option here. You know you’ll only get hurt more if you let it – or whatever this is – continue like this. The path that you’re walking is already doomed, you can see where the road ends, fades into nothing but pain and suffering. But you’re young, and you’re stupid. And you like Sae Itoshi way more than you should. So you shrug. “Sure.”

Sae cups your face with one hand, adjusting your positioning slightly before he leans down to kiss you. This time, along with the anxiety, there’s also something in you that yearns and yearns. The second or two before Sae kisses you feels like an hour at the least; something almost akin to relief floods through your veins when he finally does. 

It’s as if your world shifts as he kisses you again, slow and languid. Or at least, that’s how it starts. In a matter of seconds it turns into something more zealous, all tongue and teeth. Your hands instinctively fly up to tangle into his messy hair as he picks you up effortlessly with one hand and places you atop the kitchen counter. You gasp into his mouth in surprise at the sudden movement, and it draws a low chuckle from him before he pulls away infinitesimally. You’re confused; is it ending already? You don’t want it to end. And it’s as if Sae reads your mind.

“Calm down, pretty,” he pants, eyes wide and pupils blown out. He smirks against your lips, smug, confident. “It’s just a breather, I’ll kiss you again, don’t worry.”

You roll your eyes, and Sae kisses you again; you can feel the way his lips curve up. He feels you loop your arms around his neck, somehow pulling him even closer to you, and he maneuvers one of your legs so it’s hooked around his hip. You seem to get the message, wrapping your legs around his waist. Sae hums into your mouth in approval, dragging a thumb across your cheekbone slowly, lips still against yours. He knows all of this is still more or less new to you, considering the fact that everything you’ve experienced has been with Sae, but it’s obvious that you’re growing more and more used to it by the second. 

He doesn’t taste the lipgloss this time; he almost misses it – both the taste, and the way it smudges across your lips so prettily.

The taste of him intoxicates you, leaving you in a drunken stupor where he’s the only thing you can focus on. His every touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake across your body. 

But heaven on earth always comes to an end, one way or the other. You’re both oh-so wrapped up in everything going on when Sae suddenly pulls away. You lean back from him, confused. “Sae, what’s wrong?”

“Just, just gimme a sec,” he rasps. His voice is low, husky from the kissing, and he’s somewhat short of breath. “I’m not looking for a relationship or anything. I don’t know why I did it, I broke up with Kaori like a week ago.”

“I know,” you reply matter-of-factly. “Like I give a fuck.”

And then you kiss him again.

The sound of his phone ringing interrupts the two of you, and you both turn your heads to look at it simultaneously. It’s an unknown number; he cuts the call, cursing, and turns back to you. But your eyes are widened in disbelief as you stare at the clock on his lockscreen. “Sae, it’s been almost an hour since we came here!”

“No way,” he says. There’s a note of mild surprise in his voice as he checks for himself.

“We have to get back to work,” you tell him.

“Whatever, five more minutes?”

You shake your head, finally leaving the kitchen. Now that the haze you’d been lost in has finally cleared, the magnitude of just how badly you’ve fucked all this up has begun to really sink in. Sae is much more composed than you – like he didn’t just spend the last thirty-ish minutes making out with you on his kitchen counter.

The two sides of you are fighting, clawing, tearing each other apart. One side wraps around you protectively, trying to keep your heart safe. To keep you safe. Stay away from him, it screams. You’ll only get hurt. The other side wants him – wants him so badly. He has you addicted with a singular touch; your body needs this, craves him.

And you hate how he’s perfectly fine about all this.

Spoiler alert: he isn’t. Although his face doesn’t betray it, he has been thinking.

That evening, before you leave, he asks you a question.

“What are we?”

You pause. “You said you’re not, y’know…”

“Yeah.” he’s selfish; he knows that you’re into him at least a little bit. [or a lot, considering how the last few days have been.] “What do you wanna do?”

This is the last moment you can turn back, save yourself. But you only live once, right? Might as well do it for the plot. “We can keep it like this, I don’t mind.”

Sae watches you touch up your makeup before you leave. You work calm and methodically – mascara, lipstick, that damned strawberry lipgloss. “y/n.”

You move your gaze from your compact mirror to him. Damn, you’re pretty. “What?”

“Kiss me,” he says, from the couch.

You don’t say no as you take your shoes off again.

You reapply your lipgloss again half an hour later, on the way home.

 The project is completed much earlier than expected. If you’re being honest, though, you should have expected this, considering the two of you spend most of every day at each others’ places now anyways. You’ve always hated having rich, absent parents, but it doesn’t seem half as bad now. Not when Sae’s hand sits so comfortably on your waist, chin resting atop yours as he takes a photo of the finished piece. It’s like you’re two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, that are meant to be. You wish it was meant to be.

You and Sae have been pretty good at keeping things under wraps, especially when you can barely keep your hands off each other. Ever since you okayed the relationship-not-relationship, it’s as if things have automatically upped a notch. And even then, you barely text, unless it’s about meeting up in secluded corners and empty parking lots, where Sae kisses you silly, until you can’t breathe and his sharp teal gaze is unfocused and glazed over. Sae chases you the way he chases every goal on the field, focused on you and only you, ruthless, mindless of everyone else until he has you right where he wants you, with unbuttoned shirts and loosened ties and roaming hands that grab collars and venture daringly underneath clothes without ever crossing that invisible line. In the past few weeks, for example, you’ve felt up Sae’s abs way more than you’re going to admit; you’ve lost count by now anyways, but you know you’d never go farther. [you never started.]

When Sae Itoshi truly puts his mind to it, he is an emphatic lover. Between days of stolen kisses and fleeting touches and nights where you sneak out to meet him like he’s your boyfriend, time passes fast. Your favorite drink sits at one corner of your desk every day at school, and sometimes people ask if you’re dating someone. You shake your head no, but it still is a pleasant surprise every day, you tell people. It’s most definitely not Sae, especially when he’s slightly late to school every day after his early morning soccer practice.

In his own classroom down the hall, Rin’s lips quirk up into a subtle smile.

Sixteen turns into seventeen in the blink of an eye.

Sae’s slowly becoming more and more busy with soccer, and it’s not like you aren’t busy either. You barely see him now, except at schools and parties, both of which are less than ideal, considering the nature of your relationship. This doesn’t deter Sae, however, and you often find yourselves in empty rooms or the like, risking it all for a few kisses.

And then there’s the matter of his girlfriends. Because whether you like it or not, Sae has begun to date girls every now and then. They’re not serious relationships, just stupid flings that last a month or two. He never brings them up to you, and you never mention them either, unless you’re asking whether he’s done with them. He doesn’t tell you when exactly he starts dating someone new, but it’s obvious from how he pulls back and stops texting you at all. And then you see a new girl hanging off his arm at every party, and of course you’re jealous. Why wouldn’t you be? After all, it’s been five years since the first spark of anything you’ve felt for him came alive. 

You’re the one constant in his life, though, other than soccer. Every time he’s done with another girlfriend, he comes straight back to you. Or you go back to him.

Sae: come over?

Sae: yeah yeah im done w her dont worry

y/n: okay

You never refuse him, overpowered by greed, trying to get as much of him to yourself as you can. 

“Hey,” he greets you. His lips are already on yours before he’s closing the door. You don’t respond – how can you, given your position – but you smile into the kiss all the same. Sae is the closest you’ve ever had to a boyfriend. You have no interest in anyone outside him anyways. His parents are rarely home, and so are yours, so you often end up spending nights at each others’ places. It’s nothing sexual; you’d just rather not be alone. There’s a drawer of Sae’s things in your room, and he knows – and you know he knows – that you wear them occasionally. You always deny it, but he encourages it with a sly smile. “Better you than anyone else,” he says. It makes you feel special. Even his girlfriends don’t get that treatment. But that’s before you sleep over at Sae’s. Once you start staying over, his clothes are basically at your disposal. You steal his button ups, his t-shirts, his shorts. And the best part is, he doesn’t mind in the slightest. All he does is grin at you lazily while he shamelessly checks you out. “You look good, pretty girl.”

He laughs at the way the pet name startles you.

Seventeen is also when your life falls apart.

Sae shows up unannounced one night at your door, with a bouquet, a gift bag and an envelope. You haven’t seen him in a while. He’s been busy with some sort of tryouts, you’re not really sure. He hands the bag and flowers to you watching you toss the bouquet onto a couch and turn to the bag. You take out a small velvet box. It looks expensive. Inside, there’s a simple gold necklace with a heart-shaped locket. Your eyes widen. “Sae, what is this? How much did it–”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. His usually dispassionate face seems almost sad. “Just a present for my favorite girl.”

Sae has never been a verbal person with you. In the last two years, he’s only ever made his thoughts clear through his actions – never his words. This is new, and for some reason, it scares you. “But why?”

“It’s my way of saying goodbye,” he admits. Your heart drops. 

“What?”

He hands you the envelope next, and your eyes frantically skim through the document until you finish; he’s been chosen to go to Spain and train under that one soccer team he’s always talked about. You look up with wide eyes. “Sae, I’m so happy for you!”

He smiles, albeit melancholically. “I knew you’d be. But there’s also… us.”

You’re confused. “Huh? Us?”

He nods. “Whatever we’re doing right now – I can’t continue it. Not like this, over texts, with the time difference and everything. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your heart shatters into a million pieces, but you don’t want to feel any of this. Because even though you’re losing him right now, he was never yours in the first place – and you were never his. And you’d known this from the start; anticipated it even. There’d been a small part of you that had hoped, of course, that things would go a different route, but it had been set in stone all along. You take a deep breath. “Okay, Sae Itoshi, what do you wanna do?”

The corners of his lips twitch at the use of his full name, even as he tries to remain serious. “I don’t know, y/n l/n, what do I wanna do?”

Stuffing the envelope back into his hoodie pocket, he cradles your face softly with both hands, like you’re fragile. Weird. He’s never done anything like this, especially not almost-in-public. He’s always been careful, trying not to get caught. And he has kept this hidden for almost two years now, so you can’t exactly complain. You grab his wrists with both of your hands, pulling him into your house. You lock the door carefully, but you don’t notice the girl at the corner of the street. The one with a wicked little smile on her face, as she clicks yet another incriminating picture of you and Sae, damning evidence of the stupid not-relationship the two of you have kept hidden for so long.

“Do me,” you snicker as soon as you make sure the door is locked. It’s not your usual humor, not with Sae, anyways, but you’re too absorbed in your thoughts, trying to hide the intense pain you’re feeling right now. You hope it doesn’t show on your face.

Sae raises one eyebrow, arms crossed in front of him. “Come again?”

“Nothing,” you say. “C’mere, help me put this on.”

He follows you to your room like a sad puppy, waiting silently as you turn the lights on and stand in front of the mirror. He takes the necklace from your hands, fastening it around your neck. You fix the positioning of the locket; the metal is cool against your skin that’s heated up from the brush of his fingers on the nape of your neck. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, and the silence is strained, awkward even, unlike anything you’ve experienced with him before.

“So, when are you leaving?” you ask him.

“Tomorrow.”

Oh. So that’s why it’s goodbye. Of course. [You want to die.] Instead, you turn to him, hoping your face doesn’t betray your emotions. “How long are you staying here?”

“How long do you want me to?”

“When’s your flight?”

“Stop asking me questions,” he huffs. “Eight, I think.”

You open your mouth to ask another question.

“AM, eight in the morning,” he says, hands raised in surrender. “Now will you stop?”

“Let’s watch a movie,” you tell him, ignoring the second statement. “Then you can go home, I guess.”

“You guess? What, you wanna keep me here forever?” he means it as a joke, but you hum in agreement. 

“Sure.”

He pulls one of your drawers open, taking out two sets of clothing. He chucks one at you with a grin. “Go change, stupid. Get comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say. “You have to take all this back, right?”

“Nah,” he responds carelessly. “I don’t. Keep ‘em, throw ‘em out for all I care.”

You change in the bathroom, giving him space to do the same in your room. But when you come out after giving him sufficient time to finish – he’s always been quick in every way – he hasn’t changed, standing with his back to you while talking on the phone in only his boxers. You wait for him to finish, patiently staring at his back until he finishes. He notices your presence almost as soon as the call ends, turning around to face you. “What?”

“Nice ass, Itoshi,” you grin.

He narrows his eyes at you. “For real, y/n?”

You don’t answer, instead busying yourself with fixing up your bed while he gets dressed. When your bed looks okay enough for your [arguably low] standards, you turn back to Sae, who’s still very much shirtless. He holds his t-shirt in front of him, staring at it skeptically. 

“The fuck, Sae? Put your clothes on!”

“It’s hot tonight,” he complains. “Can’t I go without?”

In all those nights of staying over, he’s never done that before. If it had been anyone else you’d probably have said no. But it is Sae asking, and when have you ever said no to him? You make a show of thinking it over, but your mind has already said yes.

You start off at separate sides of the bed – you always do. This time, though, you don’t really concentrate on the movie as much as you should. Sneaking looks at Sae Itoshi’s lean, yet defined and extremely attractive body is much more fun anyways. When you’re about halfway through the stupid, sappy rom-com you’re watching, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your middle before Sae pulls you into himself. Your terrified shriek turns into a groan as you turn over to smack him in annoyance. “Maybe ask next time!”

Sae shakes his head, burying his face in your hair. Humming appreciatively, he pulls the hem of your [his] loose t-shirt up just enough to be able to wrap his arms around your bare middle. He turns back to the movie, but you’re stuck in contemplative thought. This is all new; he’s never actively done anything like it during any of your countless movie nights – if they can even be called that, considering the majority of them are interrupted by him initiating something or vice versa – and he’s always waited for the two of you to slowly come closer to each other rather than pull you to him, like tonight. He’s acting like what you'd expect a real boyfriend to act like, and suddenly your insides lurch, and once again the gravity of the situation hits you.

You’ve never really minded being Sae’s little secret, someone he comes back to when he’s tired of school and soccer and his girlfriends. It makes you feel like you’re kind of a safe space for him, where he’s not afraid to be soft or tired or imperfect. Of course, he’ll always be perfect in your eyes, anyways. But it hurts like hell now, when he acts like he’s yours, buying you expensive shit, calling you his favorite girl – who even does that? You’re already thinking of giving the necklace away, because how can you live with something like it, when he’s the one giving it to you, his “favorite girl”, when he’s not even your boyfriend. And even then, you’ve managed to somehow fall in love with him. 

It’s so fucked – you’re so fucked.

Sae seems oblivious to your troubled thoughts, hands busied with toying with your necklace. 

“This looks pretty on you,” he murmurs, and you want to throw up. You can’t take it anymore; you want to forget it, forget him, forget every compliment that he’s handed you today like some sort of indirect apology. Another second of all this, and you might just cry. You need him to shut the fuck up, and the easiest way to do that is–

“Sae, wanna make out?”

He never says no to you, either.

Sae leaves like a shadow in the night; he kisses you goodbye and whispers something that sounds suspiciously like “I’msorryIloveyou” before he pulls away. But he’s Sae, he would never say that. And even while breaking your heart into pieces with his bare hands, slow and deliberate, he still has the audacity to look so devastatingly beautiful while doing it. And you still can’t hate him. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to. It’s maybe two in the morning when you stand at the door waiting for him to leave – you’re not sure because one moment you’re falling asleep, and the next he’s waking you up, cursing, running late. He still needs to pack half his stuff. You’re startled out of your sleep when you hear that; is he fucking stupid? Who leaves that for the last few hours?

But you digress.

You haven’t bothered to turn the lights on, knowing that you'll probably just go back to bed and cry. Maybe grab some ice cream from the kitchen on your way. Not that it matters. Sae’s changed back into his normal clothes again. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. Stepping out of your house for the last time in who knows when, he turns back. You both speak at the same time.

“y/n.”

“Sae.”

“You go first,” he says.

“How long will you be, um, gone?” you ask. You’re aware your voice is shaky. Your lower lip trembles, and you bite down on it to stop. You’re going to cry – you don’t want to, not in front of him.

“Two years,” he replies sheepishly. “Give or take.”

Two– 

“I won’t have my phone, or anything,” he continues, unprompted. “So…”

“Yeah, I get it,” you say. 

“Yeah.”

“What were you gonna say?” you ask. You’d almost forgotten.

“Oh,” he seems shy, all of a sudden. The cocky, confident, arrogant, brash Sae Itoshi, acting like this in front of you? Something’s definitely up. “Oh.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll miss you,” he says at last. 

He watches your face carefully: the way it moves, the way your expression changes, the way the tiniest spasm of pain flits across it before it goes back to whatever facade you’ve been maintaining carefully ever since he came over today. You don’t say anything back, but god you’re beautiful. Even in your [his] ugly, oversized clothes and with your messy hair, you look absolutely enchanting, angelic features illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Suddenly he’s transported back to a certain evening almost two years ago, with you in a shimmery blue dress, standing by a window. You in that same blue dress, kissing him like your life depended on it. You–

“You should go,” you say shakily. I’ll miss you too, Sae. So much. You don’t even know.

“I should.”  He doesn’t want to. 

[You don’t see Sae Itoshi again until you’re on a cruise ship, celebrating your nineteenth birthday.]

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk fluff #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #sae x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #reader x sae itoshi #u-20 sae itoshi #bllk x female reader #x female reader #✩ writing ! #sae itoshi fluff #sae itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi angst

[railingsofsorrow]

you're worth fighting for

summary: sequel to old habits or... in which there's an angry love confession between exes

pairings: emily prentiss x f!bau!reader

warnings/content: heated arguments; language; discussion about a breakup; weapons; mentions of an altercation with an unsub that involves a gun; Angst!; suggestive content (no smut); grammar errors? I proofread this at 2am

a/n: the part 2 some of you asked for. this WILL have a part 3 so don't kill me. be patient.

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[part 1] [part 3]

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“why would you do that?” you bursted inside her office. everyone had left already, it was late, the jet ride itself was tiring because you had to stare at emily in front of you since it was the only seat left. you just wanted to lay down in your bed and rot honestly. but you couldn't do that without letting your anger out first.

emily had pushed you out of the way as the unsub aimed at you. he fired at her. it hit her arm, grazed it, actually, but still. she took a bullet for you and you were about to fucking steal that gun from him and shot him in the head for that. you were so mad, but your rage was directed at the wrong person and you would think about that tonight as you laid in bed, not now. because now, she needed to hear it.

“why would you get in front of me—”

emily barely looked up from the pile of files in her desk. “because there was a gun being pointed at you?”

“yeah, well, I had it handled!” you jabbed through gritted teeth.

she nodded, turning around to put something inside her bag. she had the audacity of getting her stuff ready to go home while you were furiously trying to talk to her. “sure. yeah. your idea was to take off your bulletproof vest like a damn martyr and go for a conversation? that guy was reckless and unpredictable, do you think that would've worked?”

you rubbed a hand against your face. “oh, I'm sorry I didn't listen to an order of my unit chief and now your ego is bruised, emily.”

that seemed to have an affected on her because it was the first time she reacted other than being completely blank since you walked inside her office.

her dark brown eyes narrowed at you, “my ego— that's not about me. you could've seriously gotten hurt. you could have gotten shot!” she scolded you as you raised a brow in response.

“well, I didn't because you pushed me out of the way with your fucking hero complex, so thank you.”

emily sighed in the way you knew she was tired of that conversation and she would do anything to appease you to get out of the situation. “what's gotten into you?”

you bit your inner cheek so hard that the metallic taste of blood reached your tongue. “nothing, emily.” you said with a resigned tone. already tired of being in the same room as her. “have a good night.”

the sound of her heels echoed through the room as you were about to leave.

“that wasn't about my ego.” you halted, hand wavering at the doorknob. “it had nothing to do with me, but if you had gotten hurt under my watch I would've never—”

“so it is about you in a way.”

emily brushed her hair back with both hands as she did when she was frustrated. “what do you want me to do? not care about you?”

you swallowed the urge to scream in her face, instead, you leveled your voice into a calm tone.

“i wish you cared before. I wish you cared when I was at your door begging you for a reasonable explanation for being dumped. that's what I fucking wanted, emily. I wanted you to choose me. but you picked paris and you picked london and you picked fucking interpol—”

and none of that was fair. she didn't choose paris. she didn't choose to be pulled into doyle's maddening scheme. but you weren't being exactly reasonable right now. you weren't mad at her but at the things that contributed to take her away from you. the things that took away the woman you loved.

her eyes widened slightly, lips parting in astonishment. she probably wasn't expecting to be cornered like that.

“god i just wished that for once you'd choose me.”

“i do.” she said, voice faltering. “I did.”

you shook your head “no, you didn't. you left every time. that's choosing me?”

“i thought I was protecting you.” she said, taking a step further into your space. you watched warily as she did it. a month ago she wouldn't as much as look you in the eye, but something changed these last few weeks.

something in her snapped. after the short conversation both of you had in that cold night, she couldn't get what you said out of her mind. emily made a lot of mistakes in her life, she would revisit them constantly as some form of punishment and the worst of those was letting you go. that was the worst thing she could have done, because it took a part of her away. she didn't felt whole anymore. it completely shattered her. but that was her choice, she had to deal with it. she had to work with you and watch as you laughed with your coworkers but only spared her a close lipped smile now.

it was easier this way, wasn't it?

no. it fucking wasn't. and emily was so tired of being selfless. she was done trying to play the hero, she just wanted to get the girl, was that too hard to ask?

“i made the terrible mistake of pushing you away and I regret that every single day since then.” she paused as you studied her closely, trying to decide whether or not she was being truthful. “i'd take a thousand bullets for you and there are no versions of any universe in which I'd let you get hurt because I can't bear the thought of losing you. so this?” she mentioned at her bandaged upper arm. “this is nothing.”

this was the moment where you'd rather emily just nod her head and let you walk out. she was good at doing that, she wasn't good at fighting, she was the type of person to avoid arguments.

you weren't ready for her to fight back.

“if you want to blame me for saving you, fine. do that. but I won't stop because I love you and I won't stand to see you in danger and do nothing about it.”

“you what?” you blinked up at her, feeling your heart beat hard against your ribcage.

emily itched to touch you, but she contained herself. “i love you.” she said instead, gaze falling to your lips and then moving up to lock her eyes into yours again.

now was the time she was supposed to profile your micro expressions and conclude your emotions. that didn't happen. emily couldn't focus on anything besides your closed distance and your perfume and you.

you exhaled slowly, taking a step back but was promptly cornered by the door. “you can't say that.”

“why not?”

“you're not supposed to say that.” emily frowned as you stepped aside and started pacing around the room.

“and why not?”

“because, emily!” you hollered with a certain desperation in your tone and she couldn't be more confused on what you were talking about. “you—you're not supposed to admit that out loud. you can't—” your eyes ran around her office in search for something that you seemed to find in her desk. “you can't have a picture of us in your desk. or call me sweetheart when you think I'm hurt in the field and you certainly can't say you love me six months after breaking up with me!”

“but I do!” emily exclaimed to match your raised tone of voice. “i never stopped. and I'm done trying to hide it.”

“why are you doing this now?” you questioned with batted breath.

“it's not too late for us,” emily raised her hand to gently touch yours. her touch burned you and you wanted to just bury yourself in her arms for good. that was how you felt safe. “i want to fix what I messed up, please tell me it's not too late for that.”

you stared into her eyes, drowning in the brown that took you to burned leaves in autumn season. eye contact. that was a form for you two to communicate through roundtable meetings, in the field and literally any outings between the team. it was affectionate. loving. intimate.

you were never a fan of eye contact before emily. it felt uncomfortable with other people, almost violating. but with emily it was... comforting. her way of telling you she was there and that she understood you.

she truly did. she still does. and that's scary because that meant you wouldn't be able to move on or if you even wanted to.

you had convinced yourself that emily was the love of your life and that she was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. she was it to you. but she crashed that reality by giving you a poor excuse before leaving for london and slammed the door in your face as you went back demanding a truthful explanation.

you don't know if you wanted to go back there and have your heart crushed by her again.

“i have a date tomorrow.”

maybe it was better to play it safe this time.

“what?” her face fell. “with who?”

“it doesn't matter.” you squeezed her hand and let it fall to her side as you withdrew yours, taking a deep breath. “i'm going home. you should too. get some rest.” your eyes lingered on her arm. “and take care of that arm.”

“is this you telling me we don't have a chance?” emily tilted her head, her chest clenching with the painful reality. missing the warmth of your hand on hers.

you held onto the doorknob until your knuckles turned white.

“i don't know, emily.”

“then don't go.” emily croaked out, pleading. “give me a chance. give us a chance. I promise you I will try to fix everything and I won't let you down again.”

your lips tugged downwards. “i don't want you to fix everything, emily. I want you to start communicating and trusting me.” you paused, sadness and longing pulling at your heartstrings. “look, we can start being friends again. that's all I can offer you right now.”

she nodded, the spark in her eyes hiding behind the hurt. but there was determination in her gaze, you didn't know the reason behind it.

“that's—that's great. okay. I-hm, I hope you have fun tomorrow?” you raised a brow at her, doubtful, and she huffed out a chuckle. “this is me trying.”

you smiled, opening the door and shaking your head. “okay, prentiss.” you turned to her before leaving, a teasing glint as some sort of peace offering. “in that case, I'm sorry I snapped earlier. I was out of line. I... I'm thankful for what you did.” for saving me.

emily brushed you off and went back to fixing her desk. organising files, placing pens and pencils vertically. she was nervous.

“you would've done the same.”

“yes, I would.” you answered without a second thought. you would take a bullet for her and she would be mad about it but she would forgive you eventually, because though both of you might be hardheaded and argue like two dragons fuming when things don't go your way, you're not strong enough to be mad at each other for a long period of time.

“the craziest thing about me?” emily repeated your question during your game of twenty questions. it started as simple questions like her favourite season and your favourite color but then it came the wine and a few shots of a good whisky she had kept in her apartment and all innocent inquiries became drunk stupid questions. like the one you just asked her.

“yes, em.” you winced at the strong taste of whisky down your throat as you took another shot. maybe that should be the last one... “the craziest thing 'bout you. what am I gettin' myself into. what should I be prepared for, ya know... these kind of stuff.” you clarified as if you didn't know her for a long time already. you knew her as friends, coworkers. but now she was your girlfriend.

“you,” she pointed at you with a lazy smile and you felt like kissing her whole flushed face from how adorable she was being. “you should definitely be” hiccup. “prepared for the emotional baggage I carry and... and the— oh!” her eyes lit up as she recalled something. you fondly stared as she crawled towards you and placed her hands in your naked thighs, a giddy smile stretching over her lips.

you couldn't help it, you kissed her this time.

“craziest thing about me is that—” she hummed in satisfaction as you kissed down her neck. “i, mhm... I don't give up easily. yeah, I'm... oh, you're gonna be the death of me.”

you chuckled into her neck, rubbing her cheek lovingly. “okay, finish your sentence. you're...”

“i'm very,” her eyes met yours and she smiled biting her lip. “very hardheaded. so if, one day, you get tired of me—”

you snorted, “never happening.”

“... you should probably know that, if we have the slightest chance, I'll fight for you.” your eyes softened at that. she was definitely drunk and you wondered if she would even remember that in the morning. she cupped your face, gaze lingering at your mouth as if she was trying to figure something out and your lips had all the answers. when she looked up, there was a spark of determination and a bit of joy too. “you're worth fighting for.”

you giggled like a schoolgirl, feeling dizzy due to the amount of alcohol you've had the whole night. yeah, you should definitely stop. or the next words will be you admitting you're falling in love for her.

“okay, em.” you drawled out as she lifted your chin, tugging your lip between her teeth softly. your eyes dropping shut. “then do it. fight for me.”

see, the thing about emily prentiss was that she was stubborn. when she got something in her head, she would work for it until she got it. if she saw that she had even a small chance in her favour, she would pursue it.

and if something was worth fighting for, or in that case, someone, there was really no other option. she would move heaven and earth to get you back. because you were worth it.

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taglist: @ravensbug ; @lez-talk1 ; @chiefemilyprentiss ; @snoopyaah

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss one shot #lesbian emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x female reader #criminal minds fanfiction

[mabelstone]

Why would you be loved?

hozier x f!reader

part two of lullabies <3 | part one | masterlist

cw: teeeeeny bit of violence at very beginning ... also 18+ ok if u are unfamiliar with me... this is my thing. this character is FICTIONAL before u attack me for sexualising THE hozier

word count: 3.2k

*i've decided i'd like this to be a slow burn... but don't worry! i will add things to keep u interested (or attempt to)

The sticky slap of their skin echoed through the room, my heart thudding loud enough in my ears to deafen the noise.

I lurched forward, grabbing the leggy blonde from the bar by her hair, yanking her off of Joe and slamming her naked body into the wall. She gasped loudly, falling onto the ground where she watched on in horror. I grabbed the nearest object I could reach - his bedside lamp - smashing the ceramic over his head, screaming in his face about how he's fucked this up for good.

Except that's not what happened.

I opened the door to the same scenario, except I didn't lose my temper and tear the two of them to shreds. My heart still pounded harder than ever, but I simply backed out into the hall without a sound. My eyes must've been something of a Tim Burton character as I walked back outside, leaving the front door wide open. I didn't even grab anything as my handbag was still over my shoulder. I dug around for my phone, finding nothing but an old gum packet, some lipgloss, and some loose change.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, running my hands through my hair. I had my phone in the bar. Did I leave it in Andrew's car? Fuck, did I leave it at the bar? I began to panic, frantically walking down the street. As if I could walk all the way back! It was at least 15 kilometres from my place. I didn't care though, continuing to pace in the cold in clothing more suited to warmer weather. I kept replaying what I saw over and over in my head. I'd usually call my mum, but...

The way his hands were digging into her skin, the way she kept repeating how good he was making her feel. I felt sick to my stomach, and the alcohol wasn't helping. I'm not sure they even saw me, but once he finished (judging by the sounds he was making, wouldn't be too long) he'd see the doors open and connect the dots.

I turned my head as I heard someone whistle from across the street, inexplicably grateful to see Andy's car. "What're you doin'?"

"Do you have my phone?" My voice sounded foreign to me, robotic and desperate at the same time. I crossed the street, heading straight for the passenger side.

"Your lifeline is right here, hence why I am," he laughed, holding my phone out to me. I just stood at the door expressionless, and he probably thought my drinks had been spiked or I'd gone mad. "You... alright?"

"Joe is cheating on me," robotically sounding again. Though saying the words out loud made it suddenly real. Joe is cheating on me.

"What?" His eyebrows shot up, dipping his head to see my face better. "What? When?"

"Like, literally right now," I laughed. I began to laugh hysterically, having to rest my hands on the top of his car to steady myself. I laughed so hard, tears began to stream down my face and my stomach hurt.

The next thing I knew, that familiar warm hand was on my back, followed by a soft, "c'mere". I turned to face Andrew, immediately bursting into tears. Real tears this time. He pulled me in close to his chest, one arm easily wrapped around my shoulders, the other cradling the back of my head. I sobbed into his shirt, likely accidentally digging my nails into his back as I clung to him. If I did, he didn't comment on it. He held me tight, rubbing soft circles into my spine with his palm. I don't know how long we stood there for, but when I pulled away, his shirt was soaked and covered in mascara.

"I'm so sorry," I gave a half hearted laugh, gesturing to the stained cotton. "I will wash it for you, I'm good at getting stains out."

"Don't be ridiculous," he smiled that poor you smile he always did, but this time it felt like a comfort as he shook his head. "You can come back to mine and shower. Then we can figure this out."

"No, no, I don't want to put you out." I protested, wiping under my eyes, undoubtedly smudging the black into my hairline. I sniffled, wiping my snotty nose onto the sleeve of my cardigan. If Joe was right about Andy being infatuated with me, I definitely just destroyed that in one simple, snotty gesture.

"I insist," he smiled, leaning against the side of the car. I was exhausted, and a nice shower in a house that didn't reek of infidelity sounded too good to reject. I nodded and climbed into the passenger seat for the second time tonight, switching on my phone to see no new messages. Maybe he didn't see me after all.

I slipped into an oversized hoodie of Andrew’s after my shower, steam on the mirror and condensation on every surface from the amount of time I was in there. I felt guilty using his water, but time slipped away from me by the time I realised. He had real shampoo and conditioner, not that pathetic 3 in 1 bullshit Joe used. I stole a hair tie and hid my messy curls in a bun. I honestly looked like a mess, but it was definitely an improvement from before. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Most of the alcohol had fleeted my system, so now I was just exhausted and forced to bask in the reality of the situation.

I walked into his living room where he was sat, one arm slung over the back of the couch while the other flicked through Netflix. It was strange to see him in his space, so comfortable and… domestic. No, we’re not doing this. Yet.

I looked down and saw a black border collie mix strewn across his lap. “Oh my goodness!” I swooned as I headed straight for the dog. Andy mustn’t have heard me, jumping slightly and cursing under his breath. “How rude of me. Who’s this little angel?”

“The breaking of my heart,” he began, hand over his chest as he stared lovingly down at his dog. “Elwood.”

“Elwood? Really?” I quirked an eyebrow, looking up to Elwood’s owner.

“It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful boy, I don’t understand the issue?”

I rolled my eyes, going back to snuggling the dog, kissing his face all over. “He is beautiful. Yes you are!” Elwood wagged his tail excitedly, slobbering happily all over my hands.

Andrew chuckled down at us, averting his eyes back to the TV, a soft smile lingering on his lips.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower, Andy,” I smiled, sitting beside him on the lounge, feeling like the human embodiment of the calm after a storm.

“Oh, that’s no problem at all," he grinned earnestly, playing the pilot of Breaking Bad softly in the background. He lulled his head to the side, eyes glistening in the soft golden lighting of the lamp in the corner of the room. "Want a tea?"

"Please," I nodded, Elwood now snuggled into my lap. The moment he left the room, I was left with the crushing reality of what'd just happened. The horrible sound that plagued my phonic memory, as if it were played through headphones at a deafening volume. I tried to focus on the TV, Breaking Bad had always been my favourite. It was no use, the gut wrenching ache within me only multiplied by the minute, tears welling in my eyes, daring to fall.

"I wasn't sure how you take it so I bought everything with me," he placed two tea cups onto his coffee table, along with a carton of milk and a canister of sugar.

"So adorable, you remind me of my gran," I teased, desperately trying to blink away any trace of sadness before he had a chance to see. I didn't need to burden him with any more tears.

"You know, I've been called far worse," he shrugged, taking his tea black, sitting beside me on the couch. "So I'll take it."

I hummed in response, mixing in my milk and sugar.

"So... maybe a redundant question, but, how're you feeling?"

"Well," I chuckled bitterly, sipping from my tea. "Probably feeling as you'd expect. Actually, that's a lie. I don't know how I feel honestly."

His eyes studied my features, and I deliberately avoided his gaze. His dog snored away in my lap, the TV just loud enough that any amount of silence couldn't be awkward.

"Has... anything like this happened to you?" I asked, despite the voice in my head telling me not to.

"Ehm, yeah. Not too long ago, actually," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his chocolate curls flicking up at the ends, framing his face beautifully in the light. "We were together for three years. She was sleeping around with a friend of mine. She broke it off with me when she decided she'd rather be with him."

"Her loss," I mirrored that same pitiful look he always gave me, the slight drop in his expression making me feel guilty for even asking. "You make a mean cup of tea."

"If only she could appreciate the art of English Breakfast," he sighed, a sad smile lingering on his lips despite the sarcasm in his tone.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Andy," I sighed, tempted to reach out for him but deciding against it in fear of breaching some unspoken boundary. "I'll get out of your hair soon."

"You can stay- only if you'd like," he offered awkwardly, eyes flickering to mine as he fiddled with the handle of his cup. "There's a spare bedroom."

"No, no. You've been so kind tonight, I don't want to push it," I shook my head, misjudging the height of the coffee table, my cup hitting it with a sharp clank. Elwood startled, throwing his head back to look at me. "Sorry, buddy."

"You're not pushing anything," he laughed, shaking his head now. "It's late. The decision's all yours. But I must say, that bed might be nicer than my own."

"Quite persuasive, aren't you?" I grinned, throwing my head back against the couch, weighing up my options. Well, I can't go home. "Okay. I'll stay... if you're sure that's okay?"

"Well, because you're twisting my arm..." He joked, that bright, happy smile making its glorious return. "I'll get you a spare toothbrush and a bottle of water. You've had a big night."

"Yeah," I breathed, rubbing at my burning, no doubt bloodshot, eyes. "I am exhausted."

"Come, I'll show you to your room," he got up from the couch, extending his hand to me. I took it in mine, warm and calloused; so large, his fingers reached my wrist as he helped me from the couch. I followed behind him, the soft padding of our feet up the stairs slowly becoming the only sound audible. Elwood trailing close behind, of course.

He showed me to the guest room, nothing special, but somehow a massive comfort. A navy blue, fluffy duvet with a bedside table, a simple lamp and a copy of Inferno by Dante Alighieri atop it.

"Oh, I'll grab that toothbrush," he waved his hand as if he were finally able to dismiss the thought. I chuckled at the way he hurried out of the room, the exhaustion rippling through my body as I sat on the edge of the bed. He was right. This might be the comfiest bed I've ever had the pleasure of sitting on. I zoned out, staring at the carpet as I finally sobered up. These past few weeks had been fucked, and I knew they'd only get worse. My phone started buzzing rapidly as Andy came back into the room, a bottle of water, a toothbrush still in the packaging, and a sheet of panadol in his hands. He silently placed them onto the bedside table, both of us just watching my phone ring. It was Joe.

Against my better judgement, I picked up on the last ring, raising the phone to my ear.

"Where are you?" His voice was hoarse, unsuspecting. Idiot.

"Doesn't matter," I sighed, nauseated at the sound of his voice.

"Well, it does. I've been worried sick about you, you're meant to be home now. How would I know you hadn't been kidnapped or gone home with some creep?"

"That is ironic," I laughed, though there was no humour in my tone.

"The fuck are you on about? Get home right now." He was getting angrier by the second. Andrew could hear every word, his brows knitted together in disgust as he listened on.

"I did come home. You were a bit busy," I swallowed harshly, my voice failing me, beginning to shake.

There was silence on his end for a good thirty seconds, all air in Andrew's small guest bedroom thinning at once. "...Babe. We will get through this."

"I don't think so."

"Don't say shit like that. I love you, Y/N. We'll get through this stronger than ever. Just come home, baby. I'll make it up to you," he was speaking fast, panicked almost.

"I need some space," I replied weakly, eyes filling with tears again.

"No. I love you. Come home. Please, babe, pl-"

I hung up on him before he got the chance to manipulate me straight back into his arms, Andy watching me with a frown. Suddenly, it was all too real, and I was breaking down in front of him for the second time tonight.

He didn't say anything. I felt the bed dip beside me, his warm arm wrapping around my shoulder, pulling me in close. We stayed like that for a while - my head leaned against his shoulder as I cried, his head atop mine - until I felt like there was no water left in my body. I heaved a massive sigh, sitting up straight again.

"Oh, Andy, I'm so s-"

"You've nothing to be sorry for," he hushed me, sincerity written all over his face, kind emerald eyes revealing that he wasn't doing anything for secondary gain; he was just a beautiful soul. "Get some rest."

"Okay," I agreed, pulling back the covers with his help. I wanted him to stay, I didn't want to be alone. I wished he could've just laid with me, no meaning attached, but just to have the warmth of another to occupy the cold, empty bed. Instead I thanked him again, pulling the covers up to my chin.

"You know where my room is. I'll be there if you need anything," he smiled earnestly, flicking off the light before walking out.

Goodnight, Andy, I almost said, but sleep washed over me quicker than I could form the words.

I woke early, bathed in velvety caramel coloured sunlight, slowly beginning to register where I was. I made my way down to corridor to Andy's room, his bedroom door barely ajar. I put my ear to the door, not wanting to wake him if he were still sleeping. I heard soft pants escaping his lips, letting my curiosity get the best of me.

I gently pushed the door open, revealing the glow of his milky skin in the same light. His beautiful halo of curls sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead, his face contorted in pleasure and concentration as he worked himself beneath the covers. I couldn't suppress the noise of surprise that escaped my lips as he whimpered my name.

"Fuck-" He gasped, pulling his hand from under the cover. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Keep going," I encouraged, slowly making my way to him. Confusion plastered all over his face, he obliged, slipping his hand back under the cover. I sat before him, our eyes locked on one another as he picked up the pace. "Gooood, that's it."

His brows furrowed as he continued to worked himself, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with each swallow. I slipped into bed beside him, my hand replacing his. His breathing pattern grew irregular, every vowel of my name dripping off his tongue, igniting a fire deep in my core. I began placing wet kisses along jawline, making my way down to his neck, then his chest, then-

And then I actually woke up, heart beating at a million miles an hour. What. The. Fuck. Shame immediately coursed through my veins, burying my face into my pillow as I replayed the dream over and over until it was committed to memory. Am I an awful person?

I could vaguely hear Andrew singing along to Let's Fall In Love by Ella Fitzgerald in the kitchen, cautiously making my way down the stairs. I was disgusted in myself for even thinking of him in that way, let alone loving every shame filled second of it.

"Mornin'," I made myself known, sliding onto one of the stools at his breakfast bar.

"Good morning," he chirped, sliding a cup of coffee toward me. He had his glasses on this morning, his hair pulled back into a bun. "How're you feelin'?"

"Good," I lied through my teeth, concealing it with an enthusiastic nod. "Better, yeah." I just gave you a handjob in my dream and now I want you to pin me to the couch and make love to me all day. Oh, and I'm supposed to be grieving a near 6 year relationship, but now I'm just really fucking confused. "How are you?"

"Hungry. And I hope you are too," he grinned, revealing a big stack of pancakes he'd just cooked for us, as well as a bowl of chopped strawberries.

"I am, that looks lovely," another lie. I had no appetite. But I also couldn't say no to a man so sickly sweet. He sat beside me, soft jazz serenading us from his record player.

"What've you got on today?" He queried, plopping a pancake onto each of our plates.

"Might visit my ma, update her on... everything, I guess. Then I've gotta get my car. Maybe some clothes. Fuck, I don't even know what to do," I laughed awkwardly, taking a sip of my coffee. "You performing tonight?"

"Hoping to," he nodded, taking a bite of a strawberry. "You know you're more than welcome to spend the night here again."

"I couldn't possibly burden you for another night," I deflected, mirroring his actions and popping a strawberry into my mouth.

"You actually don't have to fight me each time, you cay just say no," he chuckled, shaking his head at me.

"I love spending time with you," I confessed, resting my hand on his arm, then retracting it just as fast. "I just don't want you to think I'm using you."

"Nonsense," he waved me off, scoffing. "It's nice to have some company. Plus, Elwood has taken a strong liking to you."

"The feeling is mutual," I laughed, breaking off a piece of my pancake for the dog happily wagging his tail by my feet. "I'm sure you have lady friends come and visit."

"Only ones who ruin their tea with milk and barely touch their pancakes," he remarked with a wide grin. I felt my cheeks turn hot at his stupid comment, finally digging in to my breakfast.

Maybe things weren't going to be so bad after all.

i don't love this... but this desperately needed an update. feel free to send requests of some stuff you'd like in the next chapter xx

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier smut #andrew hozier

[mynameismckenziemae]

All of Me

Part 7

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: Jake shows up when he doesn’t have to and it just makes you want him more.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, ass play, oral (both m & f receiving), femdom kind of?, p in v, idk probably more. Lmk if I missed anything.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Look who I found wandering around like a lost puppy,” Bradley says as he enters your office with his lunch on Monday. “Said he was on his way here?”

Jake comes in behind him, looking a little worse for wear.

“Yeah,” you reply, “We talked about it on Saturday, he’s got a little bit of a medical phobia so we’re gonna try having lunch in the medical center and see if it helps.”

“Makes sense,” Bradley nods, buying the ruse. “That’s why you kept putting your physical off, eh?”

“Yeah,” Jake replies, picking at his food.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Bradley tells him, trying to put him at ease, “Can’t say much when I’m terrified of clowns,” he turns to you. “What time is Drew’s game on Wednesday?”

“6,” you pull out your phone to double-check.

“I should be able to make it then. Wanna come?” He asks Jake.

Jake looks at you, not wanting to overstep.

“Drew would love it,” you say honestly, giving him the okay.

“Sure,” he smiles, “I’ll be there.”

“Hey, did you sign him up for that camp yet?” Bradley asks, “he’s been talking about it nonstop and asked me to remind you.”

“Yes, last night. It’s a 2-week sleep-away camp,” you explain to Jake. “I was a little hesitant; he’s only 8 and it’s right after school lets out so I won’t get to spend much time with before he has to leave but I decided to let him go. I never got to do fun stuff like that when I was a kid.”

Jake nods. “Some of my favorite memories were made at summer camp.”

“Agreed,” Bradley says. “Plus you’ll have 2 weeks to all to yourself. Maybe you’ll finally get laid.”

Jake’s trying not to smile as you choke on the water you were sipping. “Jesus Roo.”

He shrugs. “What? Maybe you’d sleep better after getting dicked down.”

“Please stop,” you mutter, hiding your face in your hands.

“I’m just saying,” he continues. “Maybe Jake here could help you out?”

It’s Jake’s turn to choke.

“Just because you’re a manwhore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be,” you tease as you throw a crouton at him.

“I’m not-hang on I’ve gotta take this, it’s Cyclone,” Bradley says, answering his phone as he steps out in the hallway.

Jake gives you a knowing smile as you shake your head at Bradley’s antics.

“…be right there,” Bradley says as he returns a moment later only to grab his lunch and turn back to the door. “Gotta go, he wants to talk to me quick before our hop this afternoon. See ya guys.”

“Bye,” the two of you reply but he’s already gone.

“So what’d you do yesterday?” You ask.

“Not much, just caught up on some laundry. You?”

Missed you. Thought about you all day.

“Cleaned, caught up on some laundry too, and played baseball with Drew and Ron,” you reply.

“You play baseball too?” He asks. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

You smile. “I played a lot of sports growing up,” your smile fades as you continue. “Anything to avoid going home.”

“Understandable,” his foot nudges yours under the desk; comforting you. “Drew’s lucky to have such a cool mom.”

“He thinks so too. For now at least,” you laugh.

The rest of the lunch passes quickly and soon Sophie’s in the door frame letting you know your afternoon is starting.

“We have lunch meetings the next few days, but I’ll see you at Drew’s game,” he says as he stands.

“Sounds good. I won’t tell him just in case something comes up and you can’t make it,” you say, giving him an out if he wants it.

“I’ll be there,” he says softly, looking towards the door before giving you a quick kiss. “See ya.”

“Bye,” you smile as butterflies take flight in your stomach.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Another package of Reese’s peanut butter cups sits on your desk the following morning, and the next. Knowing now that he avoids the medical unit like the plague, makes his early morning chocolate deliveries even more special.

You’ve texted back and forth a few times but there are lulls in responses from both of you due to busy schedules. So by the time you’re done with work Wednesday, you’re anxious to see him again.

Your phone buzzes as you sit on the bleachers beside Tina and Ron who brought Drew early for warm-ups.

Jake: Our last hop ran late but we’re on our way.

Reese: Sounds good, I’ll save you guys a seat.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Drew’s on deck when the Bronco pulls in and his face lights up like Christmas morning when he sees Bradley and Jake walking up.

“Look!” He mouths at you once he finds you in the stands, pointing in their direction.

You nod with a smile on your face, blinking back the unexpected tears that spring to your eyes.

Jake always looks good; but his damp hair, tight jeans, and showing up to your son’s little league game has you ready to jump his bones.

“Who’s that with Bradley?” Tina whispers. “He’s cute. Is he single?”

You laugh, happy that her eyes are on Jake so she doesn’t see the way you flush. “His name’s Jake, he’s in Bradley’s squadron. I think he’s single,” you lie.

“I’d hope so with the way he’s looking at you,” she murmurs, nudging you.

She’s always been observant. Too observant.

“He’s younger than me,” you tell her. “Only 30.”

“Yeah. That’d totally make you a cradle robber,” she replies sarcastically with a snort. “Looks like Drew’s already a fan,” she continues noticing the way he waves at him excitedly.

You smile as they approach and have to swallow a whimper when you catch a whiff of his cologne as he sits beside you.

“Hey,” his eyes flick to your lips, and leans in, almost like he’s about to kiss you but he stops himself. The cutest blush rises up his neck.

“Hey,” you reply, wishing he hadn’t stopped. “You’re just in time. Jake, these are my…Drew’s grandparents, Ron and Tina.”

“Nice to meet you,” he shakes each of their hands.

“Keep that elbow up, bud! You got this!” Bradley calls from Jake’s other side. Drew nods as he steps up to the plate, his right elbow up.

He swings at the first pitch, but it’s a miss. The next 3 are balls, and the following is straight down the middle but he realizes it a second too late, his head dropping forward in frustration.

“Shake it off,” Jake yells and Drew’s head pops up and he meets Jake’s eye. “Let ‘er rip it if it’s in there.”

Drew takes a deep breath and nods as he steps into the batter's box.

It’s another one right down the middle. He swings, making contact. You rise to your feet and the ball sails over the center fielder’s head.

“Run!” All of you yell as Drew stands there, stunned.

With that, he takes off. Rounding second base as the outfield recovers the ball. It’s thrown to third as he approaches that base but it’s overthrown.

“Go home!” You call, bouncing on your heels.

He slides in just as the catcher gets it and you can’t see anything from the cloud of dust.

But as the dust clears the ump calls “Safe!”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Drew beams the rest of the game; playing better than ever from the confidence boost of his first home run.

Everyone goes with you for ice cream after and Tina gives you pointed looks all night that have you rolling your eyes but you can’t help but smile.

Knowing you have her approval makes your heart feel lighter than it has in a long time.

You type a quick text to Jake while you wait for Drew to buckle in after.

Reese: Do you want to come over tonight? After Drew’s asleep?

Jake: Yes.

Jake: LMK when I’m okay to come over.

Reese: Will do.

“Do you think Dad saw it? My home run? Do you think he’s proud of me?” Drew asks as you pull into the driveway.

His words tug at your heartstrings. He usually brings up Andy when big events like this happen.

“I’m sure he saw it,” you reply truthfully, turning around to look at him. “and I know he’s proud of you.”

He nods and gives you a small smile before heading inside.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Can you be good and stay quiet for me?” You murmur later as you bring Jake’s lips to yours for a searing kiss as you reach back to lock the door of your bedroom.

“I’ll try,” he breathes as he rucks your shirt up and over your head. “Wanna be good for you.”

You shiver at his words while he unbuttons your shorts before pushing them down your legs, leaving you only in your pretty lace underwear and matching bra that you put on earlier.

“Pretty,” he murmurs as his fingers trail over your cleavage, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You smile and guide him backward toward your bed, stripping him naked before pushing him gently onto his back, pressing kisses down his neck and across his collarbone. He jolts when you flick your tongue over his nipple.

“This okay?” You ask, looking up at him. When he nods you do it again before giving it a gentle suck while running your fingers over the other.

You play with his chest for a while, seeing what he likes and what gives the biggest reactions; and like he admitted to you before, he likes a little pain.

“Like that?” You ask as you pull your mouth off the sensitive bud, fingers still pinching the other.

“Yessss,” he sucks a breath in through his teeth when you pinch harder; both of them now.

You kiss your way lower, wanting to pleasure him in other ways.

Precum is steadily leaking from the tip and he gasps when you pull it into your mouth with a satisfied hum. Giving him a few sloppy bobs to coat him fully with your saliva before going lower to mouth his sac, enjoying the way he shudders. You wet your fingers in your mouth and sit back up.

“Have you ever been touched back here?” You ask, fingers tracing just behind his drawn-up balls, waiting to hear what he says before going further.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Heard it can be good though.”

“Want me to?” You ask before sucking the head of his cock into your mouth again. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

He nods, head falling back on your pillow when you start sucking him off again. Once his hands slide into your hair you move your finger lower, tracing a wet fingertip over his tight ring of muscle. His fingers tighten in your hair and he tenses at the first touch eventually relaxing when you begin to circle.

“Fuck,” he rasps when you gently press; the broken sound making you clench. “That-ah…that’s good.”

“Mmm,” you hum around him, taking him a little deeper into your mouth, using your unoccupied hand to stroke what you can’t swallow.

“Ree-Reese,” he gasps, gently tugging on your hair to pull you off. “I’m gonna-can I cum?”

You nod, not letting him pull you off.

“I-where should…fuck!” He pants when you keep going, wanting nothing more than to taste him.

His eyes widen when he realizes your plan. One of his hands leaves your hair and you glance up to watch him pull one of your pillows over his face to muffle his wrecked groan as he cums.

You moan around him at the taste, swallowing each burst greedily, releasing him only when he begins to twitch with overstimulation.

Chest heaving, he tosses the pillow aside, eyes instantly catching on the movement of your thighs rubbing together.

He pulls you over him so fast your head spins; not taking the time to take off your underwear, he just licks you through the soaked lace as soon as your thighs straddle his face.

Your hands scrabble, finding your headboard as he pulls you down further onto his mouth, the grip on your thighs bruising as he eats you out.

When your thighs begin to shake, he slips his fingers inside you, curling them just how you like and that’s all it takes.

You nearly draw blood, biting your lip in an effort to stay quiet as you tremble through your release.

Before you come all the way down, there’s a rip of fabric and his tongue is on you again.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

You don’t know how much time passes (or how many orgasms occur) when he finally helps you off his face.

A glance shows you he’s hard again. Reaching into your bedside drawer you pull out a condom and slide it on him before straddling his hips reverse cow-girl style and sinking down. His hands come around to grip your hips as you begin to ride him.

Just as you’re about to wipe the excess condom lube on your thigh, an idea comes to mind and your slick fingers slide behind his sac again. He bends his knees, welcoming your touch.

Your motions remain the same as earlier as you ride him slowly; circling and pressing, not wanting to push him too far. But when he thrusts up at the same time as you sink down, your lubed finger slips and breaches him.

“Are you-“ you start to ask.

“Fuckkkkk,” he rasps, tilting his hips up in a silent plea for more.

You press further, clenching at the strangled moan that’s ripped from his throat and the way his hips jerk when you find his prostate.

Knowing he’s not going to last long, your free hand finds your clit as you continue to ride him, rubbing fast circles to his slow presses.

“I-oh God,” he sounds wrecked; barely coherent as he tries to tell you he’s close.

“Cum for me,” you murmur as you press more insistently, toeing the edge of your release already.

You fall off the edge when he pulses around your finger, filling the condom with a guttural groan.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

A/N: I think I blacked out when writing the smut.

Anywho🥴, what did you think?

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#jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #sub jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #top gun smut

[mhathotfic]

Based on this post it was really fun to explore the concepts in this one

If you liked it please consider leaving a small tip through my cash app I'm trying to save up for nail tech classes and every little bit helps

Warnings: non-con/dub-con, reader is bullied briefly at the beginning, oral(female receiving), afab reader with she/her pronouns, vaginal fingering and penetration, omegaverse

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

“H-hey! Stop!” (Yn) yelled, knowing her pleas would fall on uncaring ears as the pack of girls shoved into someone’s room.

“Oh stop crying! We’ll let you out soon, probably”

She could practically hear the dismissive shrug and cruel smirk the leader of that little click likely gave.

“I guess that depends on how long Bakugou’s workout takes, you know how Alphas are! It'll probably only be an hour, maybe two? Hope he believes you when you tell him you weren't trying to steal from him!” they laughed, jamming the door shut and leaving (Yn) alone with nothing but her thoughts in the seemingly empty, strong-smelling room.

What did she do to deserve this? Whatever it was it couldn’t possibly warrant anything like this!

She was just a simple Omega, just trying to get a good education so she could get a good job, what did she do wrong to earn such scornful treatment?

Why di—

“The hell are you doing here?”

A heavy, labored, and husky voice sounded from behind her. She froze, her own voice trapped in her throat as she turned towards it to find the Alpha in question rising from his bed. His face flushed and hard to read as he observed her.

He knows her, well sort of? She's in a few of his classes. Always sticking to the corners of the room hoping no one noticed her, but he had.

He took note of every detail, head to toe, from the way her hair fell and complimented her face to the way she walked with a little sway in her hips.

He had wanted to talk to her at least once before his rut had started, but he never got the chance, and now that choice had been taken from them both.

“I uh, I don't know? I got s-shoved in here a-and.…” she stammered and rambled, getting his attention again.

But he couldn't focus on her words though. Her strawberries and cream scent was too sweet and distracting for him to ignore. In a desperate attempt to stave off his growing lust for the oblivious Omega, he tried to subtly palm himself quietly but he groaned at the contact making her jump.

He sounded pained, and her Omega instincts kicked in and brought her to his side quickly to see what was wrong and if she could help.

It was the biggest mistake she could have made. As soon as she was near, she could smell the scent of a frantic, rutting Alpha. It quickly became apparent the type of danger she was in quickly, but not as quick as Bakugou was.

He, in a matter of seconds, had torn through her clothes. Too far gone to ask any more questions or explain himself, too out of it to even notice her fearful begging for him to reconsider his actions.

All he could hear was that pleading tone and god was it easy to imagine that pretty voice begging him to breed her. A pretty little sound that made his knot twitch and ache. God, he needs to breed her.

He has to, needs to so badly, he couldn't stop himself when she smelled so danm good. He was going to breed her, but first, he had to make sure she was ready for him.

He shuddered at the thought, pinning her hips to his bed before laving his tongue over her sex, trying to put a taste to the sugary scent. This was the pussy he’d own. The one his Omega was in possession of. His, all his and he’ll make sure she knows it.

It didn’t matter that he’d never introduced himself properly to her, there’s plenty of time to know his mate better after this.

She tried to get him to stop. Squirming in his grip and tugging at his hair in a futile attempt to get him away from her, as she whimpered “Please, don’t”.

Only to be interrupted by a growl and a finger pushed into her already sopping wet cunt.

In his lust-altered state, her actions seemed like she was just impatient. Her plea was easily written off as her trying to beg him not to be a tease.

“Fucking god, you’re so damn wet, you want it bad don’t you?” he groans adding a second finger, and it must have sounded like some sort of sick taunt to her. His fingers thrusting and rubbing against her inner walls, unwanted and unwavering, but pleasurable in a way that felt like the deepest betrayal.

Her body was welcoming his actions and he seemed to be enjoying his perverse power over her. His lips pressed against her clit, kissing it before sucking and licking on the sensitive little bundle of nerves.

Pushing her closer to the edge of ecstasy. Closers to the cliff’s edge that she didn’t think she’d survive if she fell from it. It’d leave her broken, useless, and unable to fight his advances, but could she fight this anyway?

He seemed to have no problem overpowering her, seemed unbothered by her begging and feeble attempts to tug him off of her.

Should she just accept her fate? Should she just let herself fall apart and be his toy for the time being?

Her body felt hot and the little bit of internal thread he’s been toying with tangled, knotted, and pulled tighter and tighter until it snapped with a sobbing cry and blanking mind.

She clung tightly to him, not bothering to fight him when he kissed her and lined his thick cock with her entrance. Too far gone to even think about fighting this.

“P-please, at least be gentle with me, I um… I’ve never—”

“You’re still a virgin?” he cut her off, the gravity of their situation finally settling in his mind and he would have backed off. Apologizing profusely for how he behaved, how he let himself be taken by his rut.

She was probably waiting until she was more established to find herself a mate, and in a moment of selfish desperation he almost ruined her. He really did want to back off and let her go but…

“I— d-don’t you want me?”

But her instincts had kicked in and his hesitation must have read as rejection because she looked hurt.

Why did it hurt? She hadn’t wanted this, she didn’t want this!

But it hurts, it hurts so bad, tears started to prick up at her lashes.

Her body was going into heat because of him, and now he doesn’t want her?!

She was being rejected! She was being refused as an Omega and it hurts so much! Why would he be so cruel?

In reality, he doesn’t know what he was meant to do, he was no good at this.

No good at consoling words or gentleness, but he was good at expressing himself through his actions.

So he silenced her with one smooth roll of his hips, sinking into her until he was buried to the hilt.

Forcing back his growl and letting out a deep rumble of a purr in an attempt to assure her she would be safe sharing this first with him. He was determined to stay in control of his body through this, to touch her the way she wanted him to.

He was determined to force himself to be gentle, to slow his thrusts and take his time with her and…

“A-alpha”

Oh fuck.

He swallowed thickly, his pace quickening slightly. He didn’t know if he could keep this gentle facade for her if she wouldn’t even put up a fight against him. She’s being too accepting, too cute for him not to ruin thoroughly.

“I-it feels good! Feels— aha!”

Fuck it.

He took up the ruthless pace he was much more accustomed to and moved a hand to play roughly with her clit and a growl slipped out passed his lips. He couldn’t hold back after all, no, it was more like he just wouldn’t anymore.

He was allowing himself to get drunk off her whimpers and moans, taking pleasure from her blank and dazed expression as she practically crumbled under him.

“Are you, fuckin’ hell, you going to cum already?” He breathed against her ear, groaning at the resulting shiver that wreaked her body.

“You’re clenching around me so tightly, you wanted me to fuck you senseless like this, huh? Wanted to cum my knot, didn’t you?”. He grunted and she couldn’t find the words to respond.

She hadn’t wanted this at first, but now? She didn’t want to want this, but her legs wrapped themselves around his waist, and her nails clawed into his back of their own accord, her mouth ran without hesitation or thought.

“Please! Want it so bad! I want your knot Alpha!”.

She cried out and was silenced with a kiss and the overwhelming sensation of being pushed past the edge and stuck in that blissful free fall as he knotted her.

They stayed tied for what felt like hours before he could safely pull out. In truth it was only minutes, but the conversation they needed to have afterward made the wait unbearable.

Only for it to be as simple as explaining how she ended up trapped in with him, and a promise that he’ll never stop working to earn her forgiveness for this. Because no, it doesn’t matter how this happened or ended, he still did something awful to her and he won’t forgive himself until he’s made sure she’s living a happy fulfilling life with him.

The first step is tearing the heads off her soon-to-be former bullies.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader smut #katsuki x reader smut #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader smut #tw non con #tw dubious consent #tw omegaverse #tw bullying

[masked-men-fantasy]

Anniversary (Call of Duty)

It has been a year since you and him have been together, and he has a surprise just for you. 

Jackal

You know that Jackal is a busy man. You know that he is the head of the mercenary group. He has a lot of business to take care of. So, you tried to not get your hopes up. You are his partner, and being another important part of his life means you have to understand him as well.

It was almost 11 at night, and you were about to go to bed since you realized that he was not back from his mission yet.

Then you heard a sound from the front door. Who would come around this time? Is it a burglar?

Not so long after you arm yourself with a pan you found in the kitchen,  you see the door open.

Jackal in the same old mask. He held a flower bouquet. But then you realized that there was something off. His cape and left arm are covered in blood.

"Are you hurt!?" you asked panickily, rushing to him.

"Don't worry, enemy blood," Jackal replied. "I am so hurrying to find this flower that I forgot to take a shower."

You sigh with relief; at least he is not hurt, and that is all that matters.

"I am not a romantic person. So, I don't know what people do when it comes to an anniversary. But I hope this represents how much you mean to me." Jackal handed you a flower. His eyes are so much different when compared to when he talks to his colleagues. Eyes that show affection and vulnerability.

"This is more than enough." You kiss him through his metal mask.

Once both you and Jackal walk back home, you and him have a conversation about how his mission went, whether he has had anything yet, whether he should clean himself up, and so on. Just like a typical day after he is back from a tiring day of work.

But to make it a bit more special, you place flowers in a vase on the table and open the radio with the song "That's Life" by Frank Sinatra playing.

You held Jackal's hands and guided him on a slow dance. Both of you shared body warmth and each other's homely scent throughout the entire song.

Mace

"Let's get some McDonalds," he suddenly said in the evening after you and him finished training.

You think that he might forget the anniversary. Well, I can't say you are disappointed. It's just Mace being Mace, after all.

However, it is different this time. Instead of dining in, he took a drive-through. Once he gets the packages of burgers, fries, and coke, he then goes a different way; that is not a way home.

"Where are we going?" You frowned.

Mace did not answer, even though you asked him multiple times, so you did not ask any further. Just cross your arms and wait until the answer is revealed.

He drove almost 100 miles from the base, went through the woods, and went up a hill  before parking a truck at the hill when it was about a night.

You were about to complain about where the hell he took you, and then you saw the sky full of stars. So bright and so beautiful that you almost think there are only you and Mace left in this universe.

Mace opens the trunk of the truck and calls you to take a seat by shaking a bag of fries.

"Not a bad idea of an anniversary date, right?" He smiles.

You don't know why, but his smile is brighter than all the stars you just saw. Bright enough that it's warming your heart.

Ghost

You will wake up with a full English breakfast and a sweet cup of tea on your bed.

"Happy anniversary, love," Simon kissed your forehead.

You and Ghost will have breakfast together, have a small talk, and have a good laugh and smile that Simon never shows to anyone.

After that sweet breakfast, Simon will take you to the nearby park. Enjoying a sightseeing walk and bird feeding, probably with some boat rides in a small pond.

In the afternoon, he will take you for a motorcycle ride around the town. Feel the breeze as the wind goes through; feel his strong, muscular back while you sit.

As for the evening, he will bring you back home and prepare dinner for you. He will not allow you to help him; just let you watch him make a steak and some mashed potatoes. He wants it to be a special day for you, so he will do everything just for you.

You and Simon will enjoy dinner with a glass of wine together. And if you feel like you want to spend some more time with him, a movie night of your choice is also available as well.

Overall, 10/10 husband material. Would marry him over and over again.

Nikto

"Come with me, Дорогой (darling)." Nikto suddenly said that in the middle of a sparring session with you. But it is quite concerning. It is rare that Nikto uses a word like darling. He mostly just called your name or some degrading name in the bedroom.

You and him walk to the meeting room with rookies and some Kortac members. Suddenly, he held your hand and announced it out loud.

"This one is my future wife. If I see anyone flirting with what's mine, I will take care of that personally." Nikto said it loudly in a heavy Russian accent.

Not only was everyone in the room shocked, but you also gasped at what he just said.

"Happy Anniversary." Nikto said. His eyes were drawn to you. "I tried my best to make a surprise."

You believe his sense of understanding what makes a good surprise is broken. You cannot either tell if he is so sweet to make this relationship clear or if it's just his sense of understanding what makes a good surprise completely broken.

#jackal x reader #mace x reader #ghost x reader #nikto x reader #jackal x male reader #mace x male reader #ghost x male reader #nikto x male reader #call of duty #cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x male reader #simon ghost x male reader

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA (30f) for losing my cool/snapping at my roommate and friend (30m, who I will call Kyle) because he was too loud playing games online with his friends?

For context, in case it's needed: this happened a couple months ago, but it's been on my mind. We are both autistic and thus got a late start in our adult lives, in several ways. We have been friends for 10 years and have lived together for roughly 7 of them, on and off (we adopted 2 cats together many years ago, its just easier like this so we dont have to separate them or force one of us to be away from the cats. we love them very much. kind of a coparenting situation lol). Kyle has a salaried tech job that's remote for 70% of the time, and I've recently become a full-time online college student after failing to "make it" without a degree.

We live in a tiny 2-bedroom house that Kyle's family owns. We're only charged for utilities, which is why neither of us are leaving anytime soon (contrary to what you might assume, Kyle does not make a lot of money), especially since it's giving me the opportunity to go to school full-time and not worry about rent. Kyle helps me a lot with groceries and other necessities and I do most of the chores.

So we are always basically on top of each other, and sometimes we get on each other's nerves. We try to be respectful of each others' space, but it's hard because there is not much space in the first place.

I had a really busy day studying and doing homework, which is basically every day for me, since I'm taking 6 classes, 4 of which are STEM classes. So I tend to fall asleep early if I'm not unintentionally pulling all-nighters. I was trying to sleep when this happened around 9pm.

He usually closes his door because he knows he can be very loud, but it doesn't help much. I ended up having to close my own door to try and drown out some of his yelling and laughing, which I understand is going to happen and I try not to hold it against him.

But then he opened his door and left it wide open, so I could hear everything, like he was in the same room. Something really funny must have happened because he started scream-laughing.

Despite this being a semi-regular weekly occurrence, I was really startled. I figured, it probably wasn't intentional and he'll try to quiet down and close his door. I tried to relax and as soon as I started to fall asleep, he did it again, except louder.

This time he didn't stop, he was full-on screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs. Kinda like those game streamers/youtubers where literally all they do is scream the whole time? Very similar. My cat, who was asleep under the blanket on top of me, got startled awake and scratched the shit out of my leg.

I think this all triggered a "fight" response because I was suddenly just so incredibly pissed at Kyle, which I tried to get under control, but he would not stop screaming and I literally could not hear myself think.

(I cannot wear earplugs or have anything in/covering my ears for huge sensory reasons.)

Then my cat wanted to leave the room to see what the commotion was, so I had to open the door, which gave me a direct line of sight to to Kyle at his computer.

I walked over to his doorway. Tried to knock and call his name, but he didnt notice with his noise cancelling headphones on. So I slammed my hand against his door to get his attention & yelled "Hey! Shut the fuck up, Kyle!"

He looked surprised to see me and laughed and kinds waved it off and said "sorry, it got a little intense" and he started to explain what they were doing.

I cut him off and said "I don't care. Shut the hell up." He said he could close his door again, and I said "No, you need to stop. Just stop! You're freaking the cats out too!" and I pointed to my leg with huge bloody scratch marks, shut his door, went back to my room, shut my own door. And of course after that I had adrenaline coursing through my body and I couldn't fall asleep anyway.

After that, I didnt hear a single sound from his room apart from an occasional quiet laugh. I started to feel guilty. I think I overreacted and ruined his fun. I know this is his way of blowing off steam halfway through the work week.

I also felt embarrassed because his friends probably heard me throwing a fit. We have lived with them before, and they're exactly that loud every single night. I have had to ask them to quiet down multiple times, and Kyle told me later on that gave them the impression that I'm. Well, "neurotic, controlling bitch" was heavily implied. Kyle is usually a lot more chill, but being around these guys influences him to act more like them.

But, I guess being loud while having fun isn't a crime, especially when it's not even 10pm yet. I feel like I proved his friends right, maybe.

The next morning I apologized, he apologized too, and everything seems to be good between us, but it's been a while and he's a lot quieter during game night now. He's such a reserved and stressed out person, he hardly ever laughs except when he's playing games, so I feel like I destroyed an important outlet.

I told another friend what happened and she said I didn't overreact at all and she would have flipped out way sooner if her husband did that. (Not sure it's comparable I mean we aren't married lol) And for the record, this friend and her husband were once part of a now-fractured friend group including Kyle and his game night friends, but grew apart, for a lot of reasons, but I think mainly because the Loud Gamer Friends never really grew up while everyone else matured and moved on to different phases in life.

Basically my friends current impression of Kyle is that he is a decent person but incredibly emotionally stunted and feels like he may unintentionally cope in ways that often hurt me without caring as much as she thinks he should. Which....feels partially accurate, I guess. But isn't that placing too much responsibility on him for my wellbeing? He does a lot for me, so it felt like an unfair thing to say.

My mom on the other hand, seems to fully think I am an asshole fun-ruiner. She thinks I should have tried harder to calm down. Maybe I should have approached him sooner - nicely.

And I agree. He probably would have tried his best to oblige even if he couldn't fully succeed. But that's the reason I didn't bother - in the past he has only been able to honor that kind of request for maybe 10-15 minutes, then forgets, and it's exhausting to keep reminding him.

Anyway... what does everyone here think?

#aita #am i the asshole

[minkyungseokie]

第三章 | First Day of Work

warnings; age gap love(R: 23, S:39, T: 50), untranslated Korean, untranslated Chinese

note; chapter three!! I might be falling out of love with the sport ngl. After this, I might take a long break

note2; please feel free to request moodboards, blurbs, smaus, or anything else you want for this series. Or just request anything as long as you read my rules and how to request thing

fc; imleslie(Y/n), xavier serrano(Aaron Antognelli), blanca soler(Chiara Lorenzi)

Come Talk to Me

Driven by Destiny Masterlist | Previous | Next

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I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

DO NOT ask me to update this story. I'll update this when I can.

An arm reached out from under the mound of blankets and practically slapped the phone off the table as the alarm pierced through the quiet and comfortable atmosphere, "Ugh.." Y/n groaned, retracting her arm and cuddling into her pillow. Just as she was about to fall back to sleep, the familiar sound of her ringtone rang through the air, "God fucking dammit." Y/n cursed, throwing the blanket off of her body and grabbing her phone.

Y/n put the phone on speaker and threw her legs over the side of the bed, "What?" She barked, "Woah, why so hostile? You told me to call you to ensure you woke up." The voice of Y/n's sister, Jisue, or Rachel, said. Y/n sighed and picked up her phone, unplugging it from the wall before walking to the bathroom, "Yeah, I remember. Sorry, I just...didn't sleep very well last night." Y/n groaned, running a hand through her hair as she searched through her drawers for an outfit.

"It's fine. You forget that I'm your older sister. It isn't my first time dealing with you when you're like this. Do you know what you're going to wear?" Rachel questioned, "Nah, I'm completely clueless, mate. You wanna hop on FaceTime and help me pick an outfit?' Y/n asked, grabbing her phone and waiting for her sister to answer.

"Duh. You know I would love to help you out. Say, I'm at Mum and Dad's right now, so I can get Olivia to help as well if you want." Rachel suggested. Y/n gasped, "Yes! Yes, go get her!" Y/n encouraged. She loved all of her siblings the same amount and Y/n refused to treat one better than the other two, but Olivia was the baby of the family, everyone had a soft spot for the girl.

She was an absolute sweetheart, as all of the Lee siblings were. "Okay, hold on. She'd love to help since you're probably her favourite sibling." Rachel joked, Y/n scoffed playfully and rolled her eyes, "Oli doesn't have a favourite sibling. If she did, it'd be Felix."

Rachel quickly got up and went to go get Olivia while Y/n pulled out some options to wear otherwise they would be there all day going through her clothes.

Thudding was heard on the other end of the phone and the thump of someone landing on the soft bed the phone must've been on. "Y/N!!" Olivia greeted cheerfully, "Oliva!" Y/n copied her enthusiasm. "Olivia, be careful with my phone." Rachel hissed, plopping down on the bed next to her youngest sister, "Oh shush, Rachel. I was being careful. Anyway, I'm going to FaceTime you now." Olivia directed her attention to Y/n.

The older Australian waited until the screen for the call popped up and immediately hit answer, "G'day, my lovely sisters." Y/n greeted again, waving with both hands. Olivia was lying on the bed with her feet up in the air, swinging back and forth while Rachel sat behind her.

"Hello! Show us what you have already." Olivia said, getting into a better position, "Move over, Olivia." Rachel ordered, getting on the bed and pushing the youngest Lee sibling over gently. "Okay, keep in mind that I want to make a good impression on my boss." Y/n reminded, putting the shirts over her arm so she could get ready to show them off.

Y/n looked at her phone to see both of her sisters giving her looks of suspicion, "What?" Y/n asked, "Since when did you care about giving off good impressions?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at the younger woman, "Yeah, you usually don't care unless..." Olivia let out a loud gasp, "You're...are..Y/n! Do you want to attract your boss?! Is he or she attractive?! What's their name? I'm going to look them up."

"Woah, woah, woah, Olivia. Calm Down. What are you getting at?" Rachel asked, putting a hand on their sister's shoulder, who was vibrating in place as she grabbed Rachel's laptop. "You weren't around when this happened, but every time Y/n put more effort into her appearance, she found the boss super attractive," Olivia explained.

"Is this true, Y/n? Do you find your boss attractive?" Rachel questioned with a teasing smile growing on her face, Y/n looked to the side as her cheeks gained a hue, "Maybe, but it doesn't matter. She's married and way out of my league. Anyway. here are my shirt options." Y/n brushed off the topic and showed off each of the shirts.

"Hmm, personally I like option number three the most. I think go with the black button down. You look amazing in black." Olivia said, "I agree, black is a part of your aesthetic." Rachel agreed.

Y/n took off her pyjama shirt and threw it onto the bed just as she got another call, "Who's calling you?" Olivia asked, "Yongbok. I'm going to add him to the FaceTime call." Y/n said, picking up her phone again and sending a text to her younger brother.

After the text was sent, it didn't take too long for Felix to join the call just as Y/n was propping the phone up, "Hello. Why are you shirtless?" Felix asked as his face popped up on the screen.

A face popped up over Felix's shoulder and stared at Y/n with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, "I was getting dressed for my first day at work. Hey, Hannie." Y/n greeted, waving at the wide-eyed quokka.

The chubby-faced boy waved back, "안녕하세요, 누나." Jisung greeted, "지성아, 말해봐요. 이 셔츠 마음에 들어요? 아니면 다른 걸로 갈까요?" Y/n asked, holding up the black button-down. "Black..is good. I like black." Jisung answered, giving the girl a thumbs up.

Y/n unbuttoned the shirt and threw it on, "너도 도와줄 거야, 하니?" Y/n questioned, seeing the younger man was still there, "네, 괜찮으시다면." Jisung answered.

"Next up are the pants. Show us what you got." Felix said, "Yeah, I'm ready to see what you have for pants." Olivia spoke, "Knowing her they are all going to be high-waisted pants that are either in black or that weird tan-beige colour." Rachel joked.

Rachel looked at Y/n, who was now standing frozen with a guilty look on her face, "Y/n, you do have jeans in more than one style and two colours, right?" Rachel asked. Y/n pursed her lips and picked up two pairs of shoes, "So what shoes should I go for?" She asked, changing the subject

"I like the platform Doc Martins." Felix said, "I like the boots." Rachel said, pointing to the Doc Martin boots that Y/n held in her other hand/ "I like the platforms." Olivia said, "I like..boots as well." Han spoke.

"So we have two for the boots and two for the platforms. Hey, Olivia, go get mum and ask for her opinion." Y/n ordered. Olivia rolled her eyes but went to go get their mother as requested, "Mum!" Olivia called out as she jogged to wherever their mother was located in the house.

"So how are things in Monaco?" Felix asked, "Oh, Monaco is amazing so far. I've only been to a few places which were the market, my new home, a cafe to meet my new boss, and that's about it." Y/n shrugged.

"Speaking of her new boss. Y/n might have a little crush on her married boss." Rachel told Felix, "Rachel! Lixie, don't listen to her. I don't have a crush on Mrs. Wolff. I do think she's gorgeous, but nothing would ever come of it if I did want to be more than friends, or more than boss and PA, with her." Y/n rolled her eyes.

"I don't think it means anything. You know how Y/n is. She finds people attractive, but she's too scared...sorry, shy, to do anything about her attraction." Felix said.

"Hey!"

"I'm back with Mum!" Olivia announced, running into the room and diving onto the bed. Sure enough, after a couple of seconds, the Lee sibling's mother enters the room and sits down, "Hello, Mum!" Y/n greeted the beautiful woman.

"Hello, sweetheart. I just want to let you know that I'm proud of you for finding such a good job." Mrs. Lee said sweetly, wishing she could hug her child and run her hands through her hair.

"Thank you, mam. I'll be right back." Y/n said, grabbing her clothes before stepping out of the frame. Mrs. Lee got up and exited the room since she was no longer needed, "Do you guys really think Y/n isn't interested in the boss lady?" Olivia asked in a low voice.

"I am not sure, honestly." Rachel admitted, "Y/n 누나는 쉽게 사랑에 빠지는 타입이 아닙니다." Han spoke up, "You're right. She really isn't the type to fall in love easily and she definitely isn't someone who is into homewrecking." Felix agreed.

Rachel opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of rustling clothes getting closer made her snap her jaw shut as quickly as she opened it.

"Okay, how do I look?" Y/n asked, giving the group a 360 view of her outfit. "You look amazing as always." Rachel complimented, "As pretty as always." Felix added, "Unbutton a few of those buttons. You look like a fuc- ahem a nerd." Olivia said.

"N/n, I'm being so serious about this when I ask and I don't want you to think I'm accusing you of anything, but..." Felix trailed off, unsure as to how to phrase the question.

"You usually wear more masculine or androgynous clothing, but all of a sudden you're being really feminine," Olivia spoke up. 

Y/n nearly reeled back in shock. She wasn't doing much of anything other than getting dressed and ready for her first day at work, which she had to get to in an hour. "I'm not sure if I follow what you're trying to say." Y/n narrowed her eyes.

"I'm just saying that maybe you're much more attracted to that woman who hired you than you thought and maybe you're unconsciously changing things about yourself to appeal to her." Rachel shrugged.

Y/n stared at her family with wide eyes. She didn't know why they were accusing her of being into her boss, but it made her want to rip her cochlear out of her head, but it wasn't that serious.

Y/n didn't understand why they would think that. Y/n hated things like that.

Love at first sight.

To her, it wasn't real and never existed. How are you going to fall in love with someone based on nothing but their looks? It's shallow and it's also how people end up in bad relationships since someone could be the most handsome man or woman you had ever met and simultaneously be the shittiest person alive.

To Y/n, being accused of being so attracted to Susie without her properly knowing the woman made Y/n feel like they saw her as shallow and superficial.

To Y/n, being accused of trying to dress to attract a woman with a family meant calling her a homewrecker.

Y/n didn't associate with people like that or live by the love at first sight thing because beauty will fade, but one's character will not.

"You guys know damn well that I'm not like that." Y/n hissed, "Y/n, we don't mean it like that--" Rachel started.

"No, you do mean it like that. I dress for myself and my success, not to attract an already-married woman. What kind of person do you think I am? I told you that she's married. I told you that she has a family." Y/n interrupted.

"Y/nnie..." Han called out, "I'm sorry, but I don't want to talk to any of you right now." Y/n huffed, pressing the 'end call' button. 

The Chinese Australian dusted the imaginary dust off of her outfit and finished getting ready. She grabbed her glasses and put them on before putting her hair in a half up half down style.

Y/n grabbed a belt and wrapped it around her waist, making sure she didn't miss any of the belt loops before grabbing her backpack and the keys to the BMW Series 3 she had rented.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Y/n sat in the car with her hands on the wheel and her eyes closed, she felt bad for assuming what her sisters had meant by what they had said. She also felt really bad for getting so upset with them and she didn't even know why she was so upset by it.

Yes, she was willing to admit that Susie Wolff was an absolutely gorgeous woman, but to say that she was changing herself in order to attract the older woman was blasphemous to her.

Y/n input the address into her phone and followed the directions to a makeshift office that Susie used while In Monaco. The Headquarters was in London and Susie had a son to raise, so she couldn't be in London all the time like she wanted to be.

"Wait, does this mean I'm going to have to travel all over the world? I know that I have an expensive apartment and rent this expensive car, but I'm not rich. This job better pay me enough." Y/n muttered.

Y/n stopped in front of the makeshift office and exited the car with her bag in hand, shoving her keys into the bag as she walked up to the front door. As she stared at the building, her stomach did flips, she hated starting a new job.

Starting a new place of work always made her feel like her stomach was flipping so hard that it'd fall out of her ass. Taking a deep breath and gripping the straps of her bag, Y/n muttered encouragements to herself, "来吧, Y/n。别这么娘娘腔 男人......呃......女人，快滚进大楼" 

After cursing at herself in Chinese, Y/n finally opened the door and stepped inside. "Hello, how may I help you?" The receptionist asked with a sweet smile on her face, "Um, I'm here to see Mrs. Susie Wolff. I am her new PA." Y/n explained, wiping her clammy hands on her pants.

The receptionist typed a few things before picking up her phone and calling someone. After a few minutes, the woman looked up at her again, "Okay, you can go sit and Mrs. Wollf will be with you shortly." 

Y/n nodded and turned to go sit in the lobby. The girl sat down and looked around, studying the lobby of the building. This must be where Susie works when her husband is busy doing whatever it is he does and she wants to be around her son.

"Alright, have a wonderful day. Be a good boy for Jessi, okay?" Y/n turned at the sound of Susie's voice to see her kneeling down with her hands on a little blonde boy's shoulders. The little boy nodded and wrapped his arms around Susie's neck.

Y/n and Susie watched as another woman, whom Y/n admittedly didn't notice at first, picked the young boy up and walked out of the building. Y/n continued to watch the duo leave, not noticing Susie turn to her with a smile.

"Ms. Lee? Ms. Lee?" Susie called out before putting a hand on Y/n's shoulder. Y/n jumped up in surprise and whipped around, "妈的! Oh, Mrs. Wolff. I apologise. I didn't see you walking up to me." Y/n breathed, putting a hand over her heart as if it would stop the racing.

"Did I scare you? I'm sorry." Susie apologised with a chuckle, "It's fine. Anyway, good morning to you, Mrs. Wolff. How was your morning so far?" Y/n questioned, standing up.

"Oh, it was okay. It's been a long and busy one. How about you? How was your morning so far?" Susie asked, "It was a morning. I woke up, got dressed, and drove here." Y/n answered.

Susie gestured for Y/n to follow her, "That's certainly a way to start the morning. Are you hungry?" Susie questioned, Y/n opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by her stomach growling.

It wasn't as loud as books and stories make it out to be, but when in a huge, silent, echoey hallway where things seemed much more audible than they really were...

Y/n's jaw dropped and her hands pressed against her stomach as if that would stop the growling. "I guess that answers my question." Susie chuckled, "We don't have food in the office, but I was planning on revisiting that cafe we went to last time. It's a tad bit stuffy in the office anyway."

Sussie led the younger woman out of the building, "Do you want to ride with me or are you fine taking your car?" Susie questioned. 

Y/n wanted to take the rental car, but she also wanted to ride with Susie. It would be nice to get to know her boss better, but at the same time, Y/n didn't know if it was appropriate to do so.

But wait.

She's a PA, which means she should be nearby at all times during work hours, right? With a nod, Y/n walked up to the passenger side door and put her hand on the handle, "I hope you don't mind if I ride with you." 

Susie waved her in, "No problem. Come on in." She said. Y/n opened the door to the Mercedes and slid into the passenger seat. 

Y/n looked around the interior with a look of awe. She had never been in such a luxury car. She rented the BMW, but it was at a discounted price and even that price was much more than she could afford.

"You like the car?" Susie questioned, looking at Y/n inspecting the interior of the car, "Yeah, it's much nicer than any other car I've been in. When I make enough money, I'm going to get one. A Mercedes, I mean." Y/n answered.

"Is your current car not good enough?" Susie asked, reversing as Y/n buckled up, "No, that's not my car. I rented it and I have to return it soon. I don't have enough money to get one at the moment. Spent all of my money on my expensive apartment." Y/n sighed.

Susie's smile faded as she processed what Y/n had said, while Y/n herself was practically kicking herself. 

Why would she just tell her business to her new boss like that?

"Y/n, do you have enough money for food?" Susie asked but got no answer, which was enough of an answer for her. 

Susie cleared her throat, "Moving on, I'm going to need you to fill out some stuff when we get to the cafe. I forgot to bring it with me last time." Susie changed the subject.

"Of course. I'm excited to go to the cafe again. They had delicious pastries. Have you tried their normal menu?" Y/n asked, gratefully accepting the topic switch.

She didn't need to or want to, seem like she wasn't in a good place. She wasn't, but she wasn't going to tell her new employer that she had spent so much on her apartment, the car, and buying her first set of groceries, that she had no more money.

Which was a huge reason as to why she got this job in the first place. She was a wannabe model whose life went to shit as soon as she tried to be a model. If it weren't for her parents and Felix, she'd...

Y/n shook her head. She didn't want to think about what would've become of her if they hadn't lent her enough money to pay her bills. 

In a way, they were also the only reason she was able to make it to Monaco. 

Susie looked at her new assistant out of the side of her eye. She had been talking to her, but she could tell Y/n's attention wasn't on her.

Her face was blank, but her body said that she wasn't happy with what was going through her head. Susie parked the car in the lot of the cafe in which they first officially met and turned the car off.

She studied the half-Australian before reaching out, pulling her hand back in hesitation before fully reaching out and placing her hand on top of Y/n's clenched one.

Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin when Susie's smooth hand covered hers, the touch was cool yet sent sparks of heat in her stomach. Y/n looked up at the much older woman with wide eyes, "Sorry ma'am, did you--?"

"Are you okay? Truthfully, are you okay?" Susie questioned, Y/n nodded her head, putting her free hand over Susie's, "I'm fine. I was just deep in thought. We should go in." Y/n said, pulling her hands away and exiting the car.

Susie let out a sigh and followed Y/n. It wasn't her place to push the girl, but as her employer and more importantly a mother, she couldn't help but want to understand more about what was upsetting her.

She wanted to help the younger woman as much as she could. But first, it seemed she had to gain her trust.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The two women now sat at a two-person table on the patio with menus in their hands and a silence between them. It was the type of silence that was not uncomfortable nor was it comfortable. 

It was the type of silence one could enjoy for a long time without feeling awkward, but it wasn't the type of silence that was comfortable.

Y/n didn't know how to describe it in any other way than that.

The dark-haired half-Aussie looked up when she heard Susie clear her throat gently, "Uh, do you know what you want yet? The stuff we got last time was pretty good, so I might take some home for my family." Susie said, continuing to look at the options for food.

"Uh, yeah. I think I know what I want, but I don't know if it's any good. It's the Brioche au Homrd façon Riviera. What about you?" Y/n asked, Susie showed Y/n the menu and pointed at which one she wanted, "Ah, the Croque Monsieur à la Truffe. It sounds delicious. Oh, here comes the waitress." Y/n noted, politely waving over to the waitress.

As the waitress walked over, Susie's phone began to ring, "Shoot, I have to take this. Do you mind ordering for me?" Susie asked, grabbing her phone from her purse.

"Go on, Mrs. Wolff. I'll order for you." Y/n smiled before turning to the waitress.

Susie walked outside the cafe and stood by the car, "Hello?" Susie answered, "Hello, liebling." The gruff voice of her husband greeted sweetly.

"How are things going in Sakhir?" Susie asked, "Things are going great. The car is looking wonderful and I'm really confident this season. How are things going with your new intern?" Toto questioned.

"She's my personal assistant, Toto. And she's wonderful so far. A really beautiful and sweet girl that I think will make a wonderful personal assistant." Susie said. Toto could hear that she wanted to say something, but didn't want to continue and, knowing her, whatever it was was eating at her.

"And what is the problem?" Toto questioned, "I..." Susie hesitated. She wanted to help Y/n because she knew that the woman would end up in a really bad situation. She'd earn €33,965 per year or €2,684.85 per month and, as much as it seemed, it would only pay for her rent. 

It wouldn't be enough for her to fully live off of and Susie wished she could raise the amount she had to pay, but she wasn't legally allowed to.

But it also wasn't any of her business, so she just shook her head, "Nothing. Nothing at all." Susie sighed.

After about a twenty-minute conversation with her husband, Susie hung up and made her way back to the restaurant. "I'm back. Sorry for keeping you." Susie apologised, pulling out the chair and sitting down.

"It's fine, Mrs. Wolff. The food just got here anyway." Y/n said, placing the food Susie ordered in front of her. 

"Okay, so while we eat, I'm going to have you sign some documents that I forgot to have you sign and I'll explain what you'll be doing," Susie said, opening up her purse and pulling out some papers.

Y/n, who had begun cutting her lobster roll in half, looked up at the sound of the paper being placed in front of her. Her hands were a bit messy, so she extended her pinky and used it to drag the documents over to her side where she could see better.

After looking it over, Y/n grabbed her napkin and wiped off her hands before grabbing a pen that Susie offered, "Thanks," Y/n muttered.

"So as my personal assistant you will help me with managing schedules, communicating, taking notes, planning, organizing, preparing, and reminding." Susie explained, picking up a half of her sandwich.

Y/n looked up from the paperwork she was doing and looked at Susie with confusion written all over her freckled face.

 "I know I didn't explain it well. You will basically be helping me schedule meetings, appointments, and events. You'll help me answer phone calls, emails, and any inquiries. You will be taking meeting minutes and transcribing from dictation, planning travel, including flights, accommodations, and transportation, organizing events and conferences, preparing reports, presentations, and briefs, and reminding their manager of important tasks and deadlines." Susie said.

Y/n put her pen down and nodded her head, "I know it sound like a lot to do alone, but you won't be doing git alone. We'll be working together. The only thing that you'll probably be doing alone is running errands for me when I'm busy." Susie reassured, biting into her sandwich.

"Oh, I understand. Doesn't sound too difficult to do." Y/n spoke, picking up her roll and taking a big bite. Y/n hummed in satisfaction as the flavours of her food hit her tongue, "This is really good." The woman muttered.

"I've never had food from here either, but I'm really enjoying this." Susie agreed.

"So, Mrs. Wolff, how long have you been in motorsports?" Y/n asked, "Well, I started out as a driver and then I decided I'd  help little girls achieve their dreams of becoming F1 drivers themselves. What about you? I read that you used to be a really talented driver before quitting." Susie noted.

"I was close to becoming an F1 driver, but I contracted menegitis and I lost my hearing, so I couldn't compete anymore. Also, I couldn't get any sponsors despite being "talented"" Y/n said, putting air quotes around talented.

"I've watched some of your old races and I think you would've made it pretty far in F1." Susie complimented, wiping her hands and mouth.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wolff." Y/n thanked bashfully.

"Please, call me Susie. We'll be working close together from now on." Susie gave Y/n a smile and, once again, the girl couldn't help but notice how beautiful her smile was.

The two had settled into a comfortable silence where the only sounds that were heard was the ambiance of the cafe with the patrons chattering, utensils clinking against plates, and the sound of the kitchen workers making food and drink in the back.

Susie finished her food and wiped her hands and mouth again, leaning against the table and watching Y/n finish up her own food. 

"Say, Y/n," Susie called to grab her attention. Y/n looked up and tilted her head curiously, "If you had the chance, would you become a driver again?"

Y/n froze. Driving again had always been a sensitive topic to her. She wanted to drive again. She wanted to feel the wheel under her hands, a helmet on her head, and the seat that's fitted perfectly for her.

She wanted to be a driver more than she wanted to model, but she knew she could never do it again. The inside of her ears didn't work, which means she couldn't hear any radio messages.

Unless there was a way they could help her hear without using the ear pieces, it was impossible and Y/n told her just that.

"I would if I could. But with me being unable to hear normally, there's just no way. I have to wear headphones that cover my cochlear and hearing aid or else I wouldn't be able to hear anything." Y/n explained.

Susie nodded in understanding, thinking about something before deciding to discuss it with her husband later.

"Okay, well, back to business. The F1 Academy won't be announced until November, but we have a lot of things to do before it opens. Are you ready?" Susie asked.

"I am."

↳ ❝ [Taglist] ¡!❞

@lewisvinga @only-nope @goldenmoonbeam @victorharrington @cheyxfu @xoscar03 @sunnylikesfrogs @laur2608 @evie-119 @alliwantisadonut @exotic-iris13 @thewolffswife

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[johnwickb1tsch]

Excessive Force : a Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE AMAAAZING @treedaddymcpuffpuff 😘😘😘) - Chapter FOURTEEN ---> (all chapters)

trigger warnings: mention of police shooting, child trafficking, past childhood trauma, abuse, etc. plz take care!

“Are you serious?!” You have to move the phone away from your ear to avoid a blown drum from Sheila’s screech. 

“Yup.”

“Okay, why don’t you sound as excited as me?” 

“I’m nervous. He’s really forward. And, I haven’t been on a date in forever.” That didn’t end horribly… You’ve decided not to count the fiasco with Julian. You’re in your room, fingering through the limited collection of nice clothes in your closet. You briefly debate wearing a turtleneck and thick linen pants just to piss him off. But, also, there’s that little sundress you bought at the mall that you’ve never gotten a chance to wear… The pretty, soft color would pair very nicely with your silky cream bra and panty set—that you also have never worn. You’re starting to re-think the whole not being a prude thing. 

Plus, it’s hot outside.

Sheila pulls you from your search. “Listen, if he tries anything, just kick him in the dick. Works every time.”

“He’s like eight feet tall. I don’t know if I can reach his dick… with my feet.” 

You both giggle. 

“That’s why they make step stools.” 

“Like, for that exact reason?” 

Sheila’s one of those people that has proven to be supportive. You met her on a bus tour your first week in LA and have been buddies ever since. It works perfectly since you both have hectic work schedules and don’t really expect anything from the other one. She calls you for drinks, you call her for lunch. Sympatico. 

“Obviously. So, he’s tall. Is he hot?” 

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you think back to his bare, bruised body on your exam table, those mile long, strong thighs that caged you in and felt more like they belonged to an Amazon Boa rather than a man. 

“Okay, that silence either means hell yes or hell no, so which is it?” You hear the grin in Sheila’s voice.

“First one.” 

You end up telling her about his persistent hospital visits, him pulling you over, maybe omitting some—okay, no, a lot of the details just so she doesn’t want to kill him just yet. You also haven’t told her about the Julian debacle–or that Tom basically rescued you. 

You also leave out that he just happens to be the new superhero on every news channel right now. You’re still processing that yourself, and it’s not boding well for you keeping your cool with this man. 

As it turned out, it was the news that informed you of Officer Tom Ludlow’s whereabouts those lonely night’s you’d missed him harassing you on that lonely stretch of highway. He wasn’t ignoring you. He was rescuing two teenage girls who had been kidnapped and trafficked by a gang. According to the report, Ludlow had entered the house after hearing a cry for help, alone, and gunned down every single one of the gangbangers before setting the girls free.  

Parts of this story should have alarmed you, but there had been a time in your past when you would have given anything for a person of authority to ride to your rescue, red tape be damned. How many times had the cops come to your house for a domestic disturbance between your parents, and left you in a bad situation because of some legal technicality or another? How had they seen you, scared and dirty, cowering in the doorway, and left you behind? The horrors you could have told them, if only they’d cared to ask without your parents there to overhear and threaten you, but every time until the last time, they’d just left you in the hellhole that had been your childhood home.   

How different your life—your sister’s lives—would have been if you had a Thomas Ludlow back then.

The twin girls’ MISSING posters and billboards were all over the city. Most anyone with the power to do something had given up on them as a lost cause, just another sad story, written them off as tragically probably dead in a gutter, but not Ludlow. Ludlow had risked his neck (and possibly his badge, because you’d heard of the old “I heard a cry for help” trick to gain entry, and it was almost always code for “I didn’t have a warrant, what are you going to do about it?”, to get them out, and goddammit if that didn’t just warm you to your toes and soften your heart.

Worse yet, you feel like the biggest asshole for calling him a fraud, to his face, the night after it all went down. He’d just taken it on the chin, and he still asked you out. 

Ok, he technically extorted you, but it just doesn’t feel as sinister now as it had last night. He’d been bold, and borderline needy for some human tenderness, and fuck if you didn’t understand all too well why now. 

Now, rather than having to keep yourself from tearing him a new one, you were afraid you were going to have to restrain yourself from crawling into his lap at the first opportunity, and fucking his brains out for being such a goddamed hero. 

“Oh, he’s a freak!” Despite saying this, she sounds like she’s twirling her hair and kicking her feet. 

You snort. “He’s got..uh…nice hands.” 

You decide on the sundress and the bra-panty set, but you don’t bother laying them out in preparation, because you’re still telling yourself that this isn’t that big of a deal and you’re not that invested and that if Tom Ludlow kisses you, you won’t burst into flames.

You want to take a bath, leave some scent of those seldom used lavender lemon oils lingering on your skin, but decide against it. 

No. Actually. You’re doing it. Taking a nice,  warm, spiced soak, rubbing lotion over every piece of you except the very sensitive bits, shimmying into the undergarments. The panties end up being cheekier than you like, but your butt looks cute, and the dress covers everything pretty good, anyway—well, everything that matters. 

After putting your hair up in a messy bun and throwing some mascara on, you’re ready for—actually, who the fuck are you kidding, you are the opposite of ready. Borderline panicking at the thought of this man coming to pick you up and taking you out and putting on his lewd charm and ruining this cute underwear. 

By the time he buzzes downstairs, it’s too late to decide on another pair of shoes. You have to live with sandals—with the fact that he might just look down and get a full, unfiltered view of your toes curling when he opens his pretty mouth. 

You’re totally fucked, here. 

You think it again when you open the door, finding his lean form all in black, leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets and his full bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s already thinking about eating you up. You literally feel it as his eyes look you up and down, from your messy bun to your pink painted toes. It’s been two seconds, and already you are soaked between your thighs. 

Doomed. You are just fucking doomed, and a part of you is just ready to surrender, because it takes so much goddamn energy to fight your attraction to this man. You can feel it like live electricity crackling over your skin. 

Of course, there’s that other part of you that wants to run right back up those stairs and lock yourself away from this gorgeous devil.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Your mouth opens to reply, but your brain takes a few seconds to catch up, utterly short circuited by how ridiculously handsome he is in his black button down, his dark pants belted low on his hips, those big feet in black boots. It’s a little strange, seeing him without his badge or his gun on his hip–but you can work with this. 

“Hi,” you answer, scathingly clever as ever. 

“Ready to go?” 

You’d brought down your purse, to avoid inviting him into the private sanctuary that is your little shoebox of an apartment, but now you almost regret it. 

“Yeah. Where are we going?” You step out the door, but he doesn’t move back, relishing your close proximity with a smirk. But there is a new softness in his brown eyes as he looks down at you that makes you a little weak in your knees. He reaches up to touch your cheek, feather light, and it boggles your mind how this man can be such a beast, and yet so gentle when he wants to be. 

“You’ll see.” You narrow your eyes at him, but for once, it’s more playful than fueled by annoyance. “Relax,” he says, his shapely mouth dancing as he suppresses a smile. “You’re in good hands, honey.” 

You don’t even flinch, as he drives this final nail into your coffin, the wave of desire inspired by the thought of those oh-so-capable hands and what they just might do to you tonight buzzing down your spine. This is how you die–you are strangely, almost, ok with it. 

When he has you safely ensconced in the passenger seat of his sleek black Charger you look over at him, his long arm draped over the wheel as he navigates the hostile environment of LA traffic like a shark patrolling a reef. “So…I saw you on the news last night.”

He lifts one of those dark brows, though his expression remains otherwise unreadable. “Haven’t really looked at what they’re saying,” he admits, like he’s used to the media getting the details wrong towards their own ends. 

“They said that you saved two underaged girls that were being traffiked?”

His mouth turns down, and you wonder if you’ve killed the happy vibe of the evening so soon with your nosy questions. But then again–you need to know. It’s a gnawing curiosity in your gut not just for the events that transpired, but the man who orchestrated them. Who you are currently alone in a car with, so you reason you have a right to know.

“Yeah,” he simply answers, not keen to crow his own praises. 

“And you…killed all those guys?”

He gives a sigh that seems to come from the bottom of his soul. You sense a weariness in him that he’s never shown on the outside before. 

“Yeah.” A long silence draws out between you, before he adds, “They were very bad dudes, y/n. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

You can’t exactly say that you’re not–but ironically, the news of him shooting down those gangsters really has nothing to do with it.   

“I’m not. I mean–if they were abusing those girls, then they deserved it.”

He looks you over then, an appraising look as though you’ve given him some new information about your character. Maybe information you didn’t exactly mean to give away, but it’s out there now. He’s going think you’re a kindred spirit–or a blood thirsty gremlin. 

Either way, you don’t really want to discuss why you sympathize with those girls, and with him. 

“Are you okay?”

This question seems to take him aback, like he truly wasn’t expecting it. He’s surely used to being a pillar of stoic manhood, but you know this shit takes its toll. “Yeah. I’m fine, sweetheart. Thanks.”

You eye his hand resting on the center console, and a part of you very badly wants to reach out to him and take it. Almost as though he can sense it, or maybe because he wants it as badly as you do, he holds out his hand palm up in invitation. It’s possible you stare at that hand for a beat too long, his wide calloused palm and long blunt fingers. Long enough that he tries to play it off, starting to take it back, before you quickly lace your fingers with his. The way he smiles to himself sends warmth blooming all the way to your toes, and you’re glad he’s driving because they do, indeed, curl in your sandals. 

You give him a little squeeze, relishing the way your hand feels so tiny and protected in his own, and say, genuinely, “I’m sorry. For calling you a fake cop.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I’ve heard worse from people that aren’t half as pretty as you.” 

You want to fight with him on that—scoff, roll your eyes—but you just can’t, because as much as that small, whiny part of your brain tells you he’s lying, the bigger, rational part absolutely knows just by the sincerity in his tone that he thinks you really are a pretty, sublime creature. 

“But I still kinda think you’re a jerk,” you half tease. 

“Mmmm, what happened to that feisty little thing I know? She change into a cute sundress and suddenly become sweet?” 

You are loathe to admit the real reason for your change of heart. 

“You wish.” 

He chuckles. “Bet I can make you sweet.” 

You’re a total idiot for what comes out of your mouth, and your underwear is the one that will more than likely end up paying for this mindless insolence. “How?”

He brings your hand up to his mouth, lips brushing over the thin skin of your knuckles, sending a spear of desire through your arm and into the rest of your body. You make a tiny choked noise when his tongue peeks a taste of your skin, going unfocused and fuzzy, radio static and full throttle cavewoman. 

He kisses the center of your hand, then murmurs, “With sugar, silly girl.” 

It's not only the panties that pay a high price, but also your throbbing heart, pleasantly tense and hot and full of desire. 

He must find your slack jaw and blank stare immensely entertaining, because he’s laughing low and soft, rumbling in delight. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

“I’m fine.” There has never been a more heinous lie uttered in this entire state. 

You’re fairly new to LA, but you soon realize from your surroundings that he’s taking you to the Santa Monica Pier. 

You are thanking the universe and the gods when you arrive at your destination. Five more minutes—hell, seconds—trapped in that car with him and you would have climbed into his lap and started barking. 

When he swings into a parking space designated just for Law Enforcement you turn to him with a lifted brow, as though to say, Abuse your authority much? 

But you already know the answer to that. This date is a product of it. And so far…it’s not so bad. 

“Do you like fish tacos?” He asks, keeping your hand and massaging that bulky thumb over your wrist.

“Shouldn’t you have asked that before you made a reservation?” you taunt him. 

“No reservation,” he informs you with a quirk of his mouth. “But the manager owes me a favor.” 

He waves around the busy avenue and beach walk bustling with people, peppered with colorful shops and restaurants of every kind. “Pretty sure we can find you something you like, if Mexican food with an ocean view isn’t your thing…” He says it with a smirk, and you’re seriously not sure if you want to kiss this man or smack him. Maybe both, but save it for later, sings out the little devil on your shoulder before you can tell it to shut the fuck up. 

Good lord. 

You’ve heard of the restaurant–and that it’s famously hard to get into. You wonder if his connection is a product of a favor for a good deed, or a bit of blackmail. Maybe a little bit of both. You’re finding more and more that it’s hard to put this man in a single box. 

“Honestly…?” You make him wait for it, and you can tell your effort to put this confident man on the spot only half succeeds, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “That sounds pretty amazing.”

This evil, evil gentleman. He opens your door for you, helps you out of the car, stands patiently while you fix your dress, only half looks at your exposed thighs before you pull the hem down and cover them up again. 

Then, he threads his arm with yours and leads you onto the pier. You can’t believe you’ve never taken the initiative to come here before. It’s beautiful, lit up like a modern carnival of neon lights. 

“Oh, can we go on the Ferris wheel?” You ask, looking up at him. 

“Let’s get some food in you, and then we can do whatever you want.” He really needs to stop being so…caring. It’s seriously starting to mess up your insides. 

You turn into a fascinated kid as you walk down the salt coated slice of wood built out over the ocean, looking this and that way, pointing things out, mentioning possible after-dinner activities. You feel like you’re getting annoying, but Tom just seems amused by your sunburned tourist behavior. 

You pass by a little shooting booth with huge stuffed bunnies hanging from the rack, and he must see the way you’re ogling them, so he leans down close to your ear. “I could win you one of those?”

You grin back up at him. “I can win you one.” 

“Oh? Little sharpshooter?” 

It sounds like he doesn’t believe you, so you stick your tongue out at him between smiling lips. 

He pokes your forehead in retaliation. “Anybody ever tell you how fucking cute you are?” 

The restaurant lives up to its popularity and then some. It takes a while to get here, but you just know it’s worth every foot blister when they sit you down and immediately serve a popped bottle of iced sparkling water and delicious, warm salsa and chips. 

You made it just in time to catch the purple orange sun sinking below ocean level, and the front row seats really just make the view that much more spectacular. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if a dolphin jumped from the water, illuminated by the dying sun, just like in the movies.  

“This is… amazing.” You grab some tortilla chips to munch on while he pours you both glasses of the fancy water. “Have you ever been here before?” 

“Once.” He doesn’t elaborate, so you don’t want to push the issue, but you can tell there’s some kind of ache behind that simple word. 

“Okay, so you’re obviously not from LA—where are you from?” He leans over the table a bit, curious. 

“Kansas.” 

He opens his mouth, but you stop him because you already know what he’s going to say. 

“Don’t do it.” You point a warning finger at him, giggling like an idiot. 

“God, but I really want to,” he groans. 

“So,” you say, taking another bite of chip. “Why did you become a cop?”

“You start with the heavy questions, huh?” he teases you. “Thought I was the one who was trained in interrogation?”

You suppose he’s right, considering your earlier line of inquiry in the car. But you shrug in response. Considering how you ended up here, you see no reason to tiptoe around things. “Just curious.”

He offers up an easy smile, letting you know you didn’t offend him. “Well, I actually always wanted to be a dentist.”

You snort with disbelief, trying to imagine this man’s bedside manner. But then, dentists do get to cause people a lot of pain… “Ok. Maybe that tracks.”

“I’m fucking with you,” he informs you with a smirk. 

You do your best to appear annoyed, and fear you fail at it badly. “Guess it’s not hard to imagine you pulling teeth, is all.”

He huffs at that. “I always wanted to be a cop, since I was a kid. My old man was a detective. Killed in the line of duty. I guess I felt like I needed to pick up his unfinished business.”

You blink at that. You and your big fucking mouth. “I’m sorry,” you say, reaching for his hand across the table. He curls his fingers with yours, playing with your aqua painted fingernails with his thumb.

“It’s alright. Happened a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

You squeeze his hand in yours, saying nothing. 

“What about you? What made you want to be a nurse?” 

You don’t really feel comfortable enough to tell him your whole coming-of-nurse story, so you give him the cut version: “when I was young and felt like I had no one, a nurse comforted me.”

“How young?”

“Ten.”

He winces. “Maybe I’ll get the full version of that story one day?”

There’s an epiphany, here, in this little restaurant with the comfy blue chairs, and it’s that Tom Ludlow scares you because he makes you feel something deep, deep inside your chest that you can’t even remember being there before he came along. Julian was easy, child’s play; although it stings, you’re writing him down as just another failed fling. You know if Ludlow gets his hands on your little sensitive heart, it will be a very different story. 

You take a big drink of water to wash down the salty crunch. “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Being so…cold.”

He chuckles. “Oh, you are so cold. Gonna have to make it up to me.”

Warmth floods the top layers of your skin. “I already said I’d win you the bunny.”

You’re amazed at how easily he can transition back into a smooth, carnal beast. “I don’t know if that’s enough for me to forgive you.” The fake hurt in his tone should not make you squirm in your seat. 

You bite like a dumb, good little fish should: “okay, then, how do I make it up to you, Officer Ludlow?” 

You’re hoping to faze him with the sultry innocence of your tone, but it just fuels his devilish aura instead. “We can start with me turning you over my knee.”

You don’t have a retort, but your vagina absolutely does, and she gets you squirming in your seat. 

He leans forward, knowing smile sure to be your undoing one way or another. “Would you like that?” 

“Thought you didn’t want to hurt me?” You challenge, trying to keep cool despite the blazing Ludlow heat. 

“Who says spanking has to hurt? Dr. Bitch?”

You can’t help the giggle that rolls out of you, and he seems to find it entertaining that you have to cover your mouth to hide it. “No, Tom, believe it or not, I am a grown woman who has lived an experienced life.” 

“And how was it?”

You tilt your head. “What?”

“You know, when you asked one of your vanilla boyfriends to swat that gorgeous, plump ass a little bit? Just to see how it would feel.” He leans his chin on his palm, listening intently for your answer, and you think you might be on your way to spontaneous combustion. 

How in the fuck can he just hit the nail right on the head like that? Know about parts of your life that you haven’t shared with anyone—not that there were many to share with. Are you really this readable? 

Once again, he has your sharp tongue dulled with arousal and embarrassment, and you shift in the chair. “He did it, like, once and then stopped.” 

“And did you like it?” He presses. 

“Yes.” 

He takes a little sip of his water, raising both dark brows over the glass at you. “Good to know.” 

Tom recommends the margaritas and fish tacos, so you let him order for the both of you while admiring the view. You can’t decide which one you like better, his handsome face or the ocean scape.

As you are finishing your delicious dinner the last rays of the sunset are putting on a five star show for you, the sky painted that impossible deep blue and purple, the water shimmering like color-changing opals.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you sigh, and you catch him looking at you out of the corner of your eye with a softness you haven’t seen from him before. You get up the courage to meet his eyes, and he smiles at you, but for once not like he intends to eat you.

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, sweetheart.”

“Goddammit.”

He laughs at that, a real belly laugh that makes you warm all over even without the aid of your two nursed margaritas. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to out shoot you for that little bunny now.” 

This wins you more genuine laughter. “Alright, Annie Oakley. Lead the way.” 

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